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Class _/^J'^^^ 

Book ___• S_3.lJ 

GopyiightN"-- 

COPVRIGHT DEPosrr. 



IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 




(Cy/^-^O^^. 



IN THE REALMS OF GOLD 

A BOOK OF VERSE 
1891-1901 



BY / 
LORENZO SOSSO 



** They also serve 'who only stand and luait.** 
— Milton. 




D. P. ELDER AND MORGAN SHEPARD 

SAN FRANCISCO 

1902 



Edition limited to Jive hundred copies. 
Printed from type, and type distributed. 



^^lS< 



COPYRIGHT, I90I 
BY LORENZO SOSSO 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two COH«t3 RECEfVEO 

OCT. 3! 1901 

Copyright entry 

CLASs()^:i5«a' No. 

COPY B. 



The Murdoch Press 



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•DEDICATION 



to her whose faith is still secure 
Through all incertitudes of life. 
The many days of joy, the few- 
Joyless, since she is joy thereof; 
to her, the purest of the pure, 
to her, the truest of the true, 
The mother wedded in the wife, 
I dedicate this book with love. 



Contents 



PROEM 


Page 7 


THE OPEN DOOR 


9 


AT THE THRESHOLD 


lO 


THE POET 


12 


ON KEATS 


13 


THE ARTIST 


H 


URANIA 


15 


THE VOICE OF FREEDOM 


16 


POPPIES 


18 


<'kim" 


19 


THE THREE FAITHS 


20 


THE WANDERING MINSTREL 


20 


art's EVERLASTINGNESS 


22 


THE poet's art 


22 


A PURE WOMAN 


23 


TWO GIFTS 


26 


OUR FLAG 


26 


FAITH AND LOVE 


28 


WRITTEN IN A COPY OF *' SARTOR RESARTUS 


28 


TENNYSON 


29 


AMERICA TO ENGLAND 


29 


PENITENCE 


30 


WRITTEN IN A COPY OF '* EPICTETUS " 


30 


QUATRAIN 


31 


MY SONGS 


31 


OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 


32 


Shakespeare's sonnets 


32 



Contents in memory of james russell lowell 33 

A PRAYER 34 

lullaby song 35 

love's crown 36 

ALL WORK IS prayer 37 

ANACREON in OLD AGE 38 

love's GIFTS 42 

SAINT paulinus 43 

A WORLD OF MIST 44 

TWO LOVES 45 

WARNING 47 

AN EARTH— SONG 48 

WHEN PEACE ON EARTH WILL COME AGAIN 50 

A LITANY 53 

MAXIMS 5 5 

CITY OF THE SUNSET 56 

TWILIGHT 56 

life's GIFTS 57 

ENCOURAGEMENT 57 

A WORLD-SONG FOR PEACE 58 

HOPE 61 

I CANNOT MOURN 62 

PSYCHE 63 

LORD LOVE 68 

DREAMERS ^ 69 

PHANTOMS 69 

** PAPA, WILL YOU READ ? " 70 

MAURICE THOMPSON 72 

SHE KNOWS 73 



STAR AND FLOWER 74 CofltentS 

VISIONS 7 5 

ORNAMENTS 75 

SAMSON-LABOR 76 

PIVINE ORDINANCES 78 

THE AWAKENING 79 

BIRD AND FLOWER 80 

AT THE WINDOW 8 1 

THE DYING POET %% 

COME NOT, O DEATH 8 J 

FOREWARNINGS 86 

RESURGAM 87 

FATE 88 

DESTINY 88 

AUTUMN MORNING 89 

THINK OF ME 9Z 

KINDNESS 93 

THE CONSECRATION 94 

I CHARGE THEE TO PREPARE 95 

WERE I WORTH THY PRAISE 96 

PATIENCE 97 

IN ABSENCE 98 

REMEMBRANCES 99 

NATURE I 00 

THE GRAVE I OX 

THE SILENT CITY IO3 

HAPPY DAYS 105 

TWOFOLD THE GIFT IO7 

NEMESIS 108 



Contents fortitude 

THE SOCIALIST 

PROTHALAMIUMS 

THE BEATEN PATH 

THE NEW LIFE 

THE MORGUE 

MOMENTS 

SONNETS 

THE INVETERATE YEARS 

THY WOMANHOOD 

MY FIRST ILLNESS 

YEARNINGS 

EASTER— DAY 

BEHIND THE VEIL 

HUMILITY 

SLUMBER 

MARK ANTONY 

ADMONITIONS 

THE BARK OF DEATH 

WORMWOOD 

THE MORNING STAR 

THE SUNSET 

IMMORTALITY 

THE DREAMER 

MISANTHROPOS 

I CHERISH THEE 

FAILURE OR SUCCESS ? 

THE VISIONS OF KING SOLOMON 

TO THE MUSE 



In the Realms of Gold 



PROEM 



Immortal Arbiters of Rhyme^ 

Who in your sunlit courts sublime 

And vast tribunals of all time 

Adjudicate 

And render judgments to each Muse^ 

(Since life was never mine to choose) 

Condemn me if with vain excuse 

I plead that fate 

Has bound me servitor to Song, 

Welding the golden links so strong, 

I wrought according to my weight; 
I sang according to my light; 
Still looking upward to the height 
To me denied. 

If some with amplitude of poiver^ 
The minstrels of both court and bower. 
To whom, the Muses gave their dower 
And glorified. 

Have sung a mightier^ loftier lay. 
How could I cope with such as they ? 

No ! — Yet though ever doomed to fail. 

Still will I strive those heights to scale^ 

Till everlasting death prevail 

Against my soul. 

If lowly reverence such as mine 

Can touch your natures so divine^ 

Assist me, goddesses benign. 

To reach the goal. 

Remote in glory though you are. 

Still, still I hail thee from afar! 



THE OPEN DOOR 

LO, at my open door I stand. 
And to each guest. 
As seemeth best. 
Whether an enemy or friend, 

I do extend 
To each and all a welcome hand. 

Frugal the fare upon the board: 

No gorgeous feast 

Is mine. At least. 
Though every guest should go his way. 

Some one may say, 
** My heart with his did well accord." 

If some perchance should then return 

And find the door 

Closed evermore — 
And, silently communing, mark 

How all is dark. 
And seek the cause thereof to learn; 

To such as these now speaks my heart, 

O friends, that day 

Ye went away 
The light within my household died; 

For so spake Pride, 
*' Who love thee well will ne'er depart.*' 



AT THE THRESHOLD 

DAILY I grow more conscious still 
Of what vast work before me lies; 
Of what vast duties to fulfill. 
Impelling spirit to arise. 

Have I surrendered? Have I grown 

Oblivious to those duties near. 
And wrought an idol out of stone 

To which my spirit bowed in fear ? 

Have I forsaken what I knew 

To be all Life's eternal truth. 
Blazoned before my mortal view 

In temporary days of youth? 

Have I denied that God exists. 

With pale hps trembling as they spoke. 

Because surrounded by the mists 

Which veiled my skies ere morning broke? 

Have I defiantly expelled 

Whatever calls to duty came; 
And, by some subtler charm withheld. 

Lisped amorous complaints to fame? 

O then forgive me ! Ye who sway 

Our frail mortalities of earth; 
Which are but shadows of a day 

To which a day has given birth. 



lo 



Forgive me for the nobler vow -^^ ^^^ 

My lips articulate; my heart Threshold 

Hath even consecrated now 
To life's divinities of art. 

The lucent orbs of night serene 

Have made their benedictions mine: 
The balmy winds that flute unseen 

Their mystic melodies divine. 

These hear me, these respond, evoked 

By no weird music of the mind. 
And ere the steeds of Morning, yoked. 

Whose speed is swifter than the wind. 

Trample with golden-shodded feet 

Those paths but by immortals trod; 
And fair Aurora comes to greet 

Hyperion the matchless god; 

I do my spirit prostrate lay. 

As one departed being Hes, 
Before the portals of the day. 

That God's light may pervade my eyes! 

And so my resurrection seek 

In that vast urn which Nature holds 
In her eternal hands so meek. 

Within whose self our self infolds. 

She gives her benedictions thus; 

Most potently her wondrous draught 
The spirit doth revive in us. 

When once our earthly lips have quaffed. 



II 



At the Drained from the very light of light. 

Threshold An essence of essential things; 
That gives the spirit infinite 
Eternal regions for its wrings 

To spread in, to unfurl, to soar 
Through limitless, intense, inane 

Vast realms unbounded by a shore. 
For any landmarks that remain. 

Leave others anodynes demand. 
To drowse in unconsuming sleep; 

I still would climb — O God, Thy hand- 
Height after height, steep after steep ! 



THE POET 

SCORN not the poet, the immortal youth 
Of all the ages: living to proclaim 
The permanence of God and Love and Truth, 
And whence this cosmos of creation came. 

Whose Songs when fashioned from the heart of things. 
Wrought by his soul through passionate desire. 

Are to this world what all its luminous rings 
Are unto Saturn, girdHng it with fire.- 



12 



ON KEATS 

FAME that doth never quite recede with time. 
Glory that lives 
Through marvel of a music made sublime 

By v^hat it gives — 
All these he yearned and strove for. Though surpassed 

In power to do. 
Vaster his Song's horizon spread, more vast 
His vision too. 

But soon he faltered even where he trod. 

Nor worshiped long 
Apollo; in divinity a god, 

A god of Song. 
Then like a fadeless flower low he lay 

Amidst the weeds; 
Pale in the purple sunrise of the day 

That broke his reeds. 

And we who hear yet, as in some conch-shell 

Seas heard remote. 
Melodious songs as sweet as hydromel 

Burst from his throat; 
Wonder an oak towering in pride of place 

Ages should crown. 
While some fair violet in its modest grace 

A day treads down. 



13 



THE ARTIST 

IF he in honor hold erect 
The soul God gave to him to do 
Therewith things worthy, nor deflect. 

In arduous labor, from the true 
Bright path of duty. Art will sure 
Crown one with such ideals pure. 

For infinite aspirations hold 

True glory only. Meed and praise. 
In common parlance faintly doled; 

The laurel wreath, the crown of bays. 
The triumphs shouted, the acclaim 
Of multitudes, are empty fainc. 

Pure Art eternal only gives 

Reward eternal. Then she comes 

A goddess to the soul that lives 
A life of many martyrdoms; 

Wreathing around his mighty soul 

Her perfect gift as aureole. 

And then the burden sad, the weight 

Of the intolerable years; 
The days alone, disconsolate. 

The nights of solitude and tears; 
The bitterness of suffering. 
Change, as the winter into spring. 



H 



Change, and become a deeper joy The Artist 

Than the world yieldeth. God transmutes 
Earth's metals base, though with alloy. 

To richest gold; to precious fruits 
The perished weeds. Art thrones divine 
The artist kneeling at her shrine ! 



URANIA 

TO what dim bourne of unattained desire 
Leadest thou now my weary steps along. 

Mighty Urania, goddess of my Song ? 
What purer regions, ever higher and higher 
Gleaming, with holy feet that never tire, 

Wouldst thou prevail to bring my feet among. 

Dowered with thy gift, and with thy spirit strong. 
And with thy soul to guide me and inspire ? 
O far too weak am I; too low, too base. 

Although accompanied by thee, to climb 
The lofty steeps. Unveil thy beauteous face: 

Let me behold its glory but one time. 
Then I contented will my way retrace. 

Though blind forever from that sight sublime! 



15 



THE VOICE OF FREEDOM 

/ am the voice of one crying in the ivilderness, St. John. 

YE have plated my breasts with gold. 
Against these cannot steel prevail ? 
And the might of my glory so manifold 
Become but a dotard's tale? 

Ye have throned me in splendor on high; 

Was it done so that I should see 
How in all lands men are still willing to die 

If only they may be free ? 

Lo, out from the forests of old 

There cometh a great white bear: 
Is it hunger alone that hath made him bold ? 

I cry to you all. Beware! 

And the lion once couchant, amain 

Now licketh his paws of blood. 
O whom are ye living by, Christ or Cain, 

Ye men of one brotherhood ? 

For up from the heart of man 

There goeth a great deep cry : 
*' We have fought our fight till the red blood ran; 

What more can we do but die ? " 

And when I behold the stain 

On the beautiftil banners they bore; 

And the tribute of all their blood in vain 
Spilt both upon sea and shore; 



i6 



And some ye have chosen to rule, T^he Voice 

Grown proud of their place and power, of Freedom 

Keep prattling, like to a babbling fool. 
Of the destiny of the hour; 

Meanwhile they make laws to oppress 

My people who fought to be free. 
Shall I bow the head and then acquiesce. 

Nor ask how these things can be ? 

Turn, turn from your evil ways! 

The stars of the night grow dim; 
The sun breaks forth Hke a world ablaze. 

And the oceans chant their hymn. 

Turn, turn from your bitter strife. 

Whose horrors now seem to increase : 
There are greater guerdons than war in life. 

The greater guerdons of peace. 

Ye have harnessed the waves as a steed. 

And the lightnings ye make to bear; 
And the solar rays ye have sown for seed 

Through the darkness everywhere. 

And the thunder of God uppiled 

In cloud upon cloud above. 
Ye have taught to serve, as a little child 

Serveth a master for love. 

Great things ye have wrought for good. 

Great marvels have ye achieved; 
But the glorious gospel of Brotherhood 

Ye never have truly received. 



17 



The Voice O let me be one with my race : 

of Freedom Let me come down from the hills. 

And walk with you all in the market-place. 
Or where man in the fallow tills. 

I am weary of keeping aloof. 
Receiving the gifts that ye give : 

Far better beneath a poor laborer's roof 
Than within a palace to live. 

O let me come down to the forge. 

Or to labor at mine or mill; 
And if there are backs yet of rulers to scourge 

Ye have but to command, and I will ! 



POPPIES 

FLOWERS unto the flower. 
Sweets unto the sweet; 
Song to the bird in her bower. 
Bloom to the blossom complete. 

Joy for the eyes of beauty, 

» Faith for the soul of truth; 
Strength for the heart of duty. 
Love for the love of youth. 



i8 



^KIM' 



OUT of the East :— 
Magical, mystical; gaunt and grim; 
Dreamy of soul but fettered in limb. 
Where man is partly a god and beast — 
Out of the East 

Comes **Kim'M 

Out of the East: — 
Where every marvelous temple dim 
Still echoes to some Vedic hymn. 
And every Brahmin is a priest — 

Out of the East 

Comes ''Kim'M 

Out of the East: — 

Where men use drugs that overbrim 
Their soul, until the senses swim. 
And life's delirium is increased — 
Out of the East 

Comes ^^Kim'M 

Out of the East: — 
Diminutive in form and sHm, 
Companionable to cherubim; 
Living on crumbs w^hcre others feast — 

Out of the East 

Comes ^'Kim'M 

Out of the East : — 
What fire of soul, what life, what vim! 
How gladly do we welcome him. 
Of Kipling's creatures not the least — 

Out of the East 

Comes *'Kim"! 

^9 



THE THREE FAITHS 

*' A UGUST thy soul, nor moulded like its clod," 
iV The sage propounds, '* nor like its clod 
decays. 
Immortally created by thy God, 

Why render not to God thy meed of praise ? ' ' 

** Because," pale lips reply, '* since life on earth 
Avails not, neither consummates the divine 

Life the life v^e mortals dream from birth. 

Therefore w^e worship not such God as thine." 

The fool replies not unto these: he weaves 

No such close \Voof; ties no such Gordian knot; 

But sayeth in his heart — and so believes — 

*^ There is no God, there is no God, I wot." 



THE WANDERING MINSTREL 

GO seek for the wandering minstrel, go seek him 
afar; 
O where is his spirit abiding, thou world like a star ? 
Lo, all the paths of the people are prone for his feet. 
Mage of the magical music to make their life sweet. 

Bowed with their burdens of labor they list for his 

voice. 
Yearning within them to hear him so they may rejoice 
When from the chariot of ages his soul shall descend. 
Poet and prophet, lover and laborer, father and friend! 



20 



Morning shall be as his herald, like music his speech; The 

All of the nations shall share in the glory bestowed Wandering 

unto each: Minstrel 

The rapture of song shall attend him and burn on his 

lips; 
The earth shall be his and its myriads, the sea and its 

ships. 

Coming to chant of the cosmos, the comrade of man; 
Breaking the fetters that bind us, the burdens that 

ban; 
Peer of the people, yet proving how grandly bestowed 
The gifts of the gods who have given him Song for 

a goad. 

And love from his eyes shall allure us, the light of their 

lord; 
And bread shall be broken between us who sit at his 

board; 
And tokens be given unto us, whose seal we shall find 
A bond to the broken in spirit to heal and to bind. 

Go seek for the wandering minstrel, go seek him afar; 
The chords of creation shall turn at his touch every 

soul to a star: 
Yea, and the temple awaits to receive him, the shrine 

is complete. 
And the millions of earth are all ready to spring to 

their feet! 



21 



ART'S EVERLASTINGNESS 

TO things of loftiest sense do thou appeal. 
Artist. Create thou in the marble block 

Thy soul's ideal; crumble will the rock. 
And perishable too is bronze or steel. 
Mutable language that can best reveal 

The spirit's inmost passion, or unlock 

The secret wards of sense, seems but a mock 
To Nature's changeless and eternal weal. 
Rather within the chalice of some flower 

Seek everlastingness. Evoke the reed 
To pipe thee Pan's sweet music; for thy power 

Is equally in the symbol and the deed. 
Since both possess their own immortal dower. 

And are of immortaUty the seed ! 

THE POET'S ART 

WHAT sculptor can through carven forms present 
The mighty pageantries that throng his heart ? 

There is a rigid limit to his art. 
Whether in marble bust or monument. 
The poet, through divine transfigurement 

0£ thought, within the purlieus of the mart. 

Or when in soHtude he plays his part. 
Can make his songs express his soul's intent. 
The passionate, the sorrowful, the gay; 

The multitudinous forms that but abide 
The fleeting presence of the gaudy day. 

To him is their creation not denied. 
His is the Art that will outlast decay 

When all the other forms of art have died. 



22 



A PURE WOMAN 

WHEN grace in motion and in dress 
Assists with manners to express 
More perfectly her "loveliness : 
When diffidence, not indiscreet. 
Makes still more graceful and complete 
Her radiant womanhood so sweet: 
When kindness in her every look 
Shows purely limpid as a brook. 
Whose meaning cannot be mistook: 
And something nobler, undefined. 
Like fragrance in a flower enshrined. 
Reveals the virtue of her mind: 
Not too severe to banish grace. 
Not too divine for any place. 
Though love illumes her beauteous face: 
Whose consciousness is not too pure 
To suffer sorrow, or endure 
Whatever comes through love or lure: 
Who seeks in gladness unalloyed 
The fruit which leaves the lips uncloyed. 
Whereby true life may be, enjoyed: 
Who finds in motherhood reward. 
Reveres her husband as her lord. 
And shrines what gifts the years afford: 
Leaves commonplaces pass away. 
And deems one perfect flower to-day 
Can compensate for all decay: 
Measures not mercy meted out 
By sad delinquencies of doubt. 
But is divinely still devout: 
Leaves piety to prelates paid 
Who treat tradition as a trade. 



23 



A Pure Whilst true religion grows decayed: 

Woman Leaves wealth, fame, glory pass aside. 

And only will by truth abide. 
Pure Womanhood personified: 
Clasps her young children to her knee 
And, whatsoever gods may be. 
Teaches them truth and purity: 
Yet not indifferent to the ways 
In which the Lord of Ancient Days 
Affliction on the spirit lays: 
But strong in purpose to bestow 
A rose for every thorn of woe 
Makes all life's burdens lighter grow: 
Yet mourns in silence at the doom 
Of maidens trodden in their bloom 
With all their exquisite perfume: 
Though cloistered in her heart's recess 
May be the tender consciousness 
Of one ineiFable caress. 
One rapturous moment, when a kiss 
Brought, O what dreams of love and bliss I 
But could not lead her soul amiss. 
Yet left her chastened in desire: 
Purification as by fire 
Prepared her for the saintly choir. 
Whose every mortal hour of life 
In sorrow, poverty, or strife. 
Reveals the consecrated wife: 
Reveals the motherhood benign 
Whose faith and virtue are a sign 
For all nobility divine: 
Whose words are precious and whose will 
Seeks first and lastly to fulfill 
The duties she abides by still: 
Who passes in the paths of men 

24 



Beyond, yet not above them, when A Pure 

They seek divinity again: Woman 

Maker of nations and of deeds. 

Though she transcends them and precedes. 

An angel clothed in w^oman's weeds: 

The first in charity, the first 

To quench the fiery lips that thirst. 

To bless what evil hearts have cursed: 

Day after day her loving task 

To ever give and never ask. 

Humility her only mask: 

Whose dilty, both to God and man. 

Constrains her to do all she can 

To be life's pure Samaritan: 

And on the field or in the mart 

Offers the homage of her heart 

To Valor, Wisdom, and to Art: 

No crown of gold she cannot waive 

Acceptance of, like Christ, to save 

Each sinner and each passion's slave: 

No life so mean, no heart so base. 

No soul so fettered to its place. 

But she is fain to give it grace; 

Even as Magdalene made sweet 

Her sin, by kneeling at the feet 

Of life's divinest Paraclete: 

Not weak in being overfond. 

Since holy is for her the bond 

That links her to the life beyond: ^ 

Who then would doubt that in her eyes. 

Wherein the spirit's luster lies. 

Would shine the light of Paradise: 

That such a Woman in her worth 

Would far surpass all titled birth. 

And seem a saint upon the earth! 

25 



TWO GIFTS 



AS in the sun is centered fire. 
As splendor in the stars above; 
As music centered in a lyre. 

As in the soul is centered love: 
As precious jewels in the sea. 

As in the blossoms fragrance sv^eet. 
So in this gift of mine to thee 

Is centered all my heart complete. 

As from the swallow comes the song. 

As from desire comes forth delight; 
And from the day that tarrieth long 

The rich nepenthe of the night: 
As blissful balm to those who dream 

Pure love upon their bosom lay. 
To glorify and to redeem. 

Thy gift has come to me to-day! 



OUR FLAG 



OLET our bravest bring it 
Where'er the fates allot; 
Let every patriot sing it. 

In every hallowed spot; 
Our Flag! — No man must shame it. 
No nation shall defame it, 
'Tis ours; as ours we claim it. 
By our best blood begot. 



On many a field of glory. Our Flag 

Through many a battle borne. 
Its stars have blazed their story 

Though all its stripes were torn. 
With heroes its defender 
It never v^ill surrender. 
Its immemorial splendor. 

Herald of Freedom's morn. 

O see it brightly gleaming! 

O see it grandly w^ave! 
Its glory still redeeming 

Each fallen hero's grave, — 
The symbol of a Nation 
Whose mightiest exultation 
Is in the Declaration 

Its banner-bearers gave. 

For those who died to save it 

Let it be now unfurled; 
And where we choose to wave it 

We choose against the world! 
Never let deed disgrace it 
Wherever we may place it; 
Against who would debase it 

Be stern defiance hurled. 

Still make it our endeavor. 

On every land and sea. 
That it shall be forever 

The Flag of Liberty! 
For this we have enshrined it. 
For Freedom marched behind it; 
So let the ages find it. 

Wherever man is free! 

27 



FAITH AND LOVE 

WHAT is faith but a star ? 
What is love but a sun ? 
Man's soul seeketh far. 
Yet the quest is not won. 

None richer, more great 
Than these, Jesus saith: 

If God means not fate — 
If life means not death! 



WRITTEN IN A COPY OF 
*<SARTOR RESARTUS'* 

THE book of one our century crowned 
A mighty seer. 
Deeper than e'er did plummet sound. 

He sounded here. 
O but the splendor of those heights 

His footsteps trod; 
The glory of whose days and nights 

Were near to God! 
This was the temple wherein grew 

His spirit vast; 
The temple of our spirit too. 

As of his past. 
Enter within it, kneel a while 

Before its shrine; 
And find, as found the great Carlyle, 

Its God divine! 



28 



TENNYSON 

lEAD is the poet who to men bestowed 



D' 



Such marvelous melodious gifts of song! 
The stainless guerdon of a soul which long 
Imperishably paramount abode. 
Richness of revenue w^hich all realms owed 
To one supremely throned, serenely strong; 
Thence winning from the whole world's wisest 
throng 
Such glory as the noblest deem a goad. 
Ever, from such a fray, on such a field 

Foughten, as with the thunder of the brine. 

And where but souls august great meed have won. 
Are men content such reverence to yield 
To such a soul divine of Song. Divine 
Theocritus, or England's Tennyson! 

AMERICA TO ENGLAND 

ON THE DEATH OF HER MAJESTY QUEEN VICTORIA 

O MIGHTY England, in thy hour of need 
And lamentation, deeply do we mourn: 

Sons of those sons of thy high lineage born. 
And kindred with thee of the Saxon seed. 
O doom! against which all in vain we plead; 

O Destiny's intolerable scorn! 

Sadly our hearts bewail with thine, forlorn 
Of one most worthy all such grief indeed: 
Queen-mother of thy people, whose renown 

Is shrined in every land and every mart. 
All womanhood beneath her royal crown; 

All goodness gathered into her great heart; 
Who has but laid her earthly scepter down 

To more divine dominions to depart. 

29 



PENITENCE 

IF we in penitence beseech 
The grace God's mercy giveth. 
And seek those blessings within reach 
Whereby the spirit liveth; 

If we discard all doubts and fears. 
And pray with hearts not hardened 

For consolation to the years. 
We cannot but be pardoned. 



WRITTEN IN A COPY OF EPICTETUS 

THESE are the maxims which a slave 
To all mankind forever gave. 
A slave ? Nay, where was mind more free 
And greater in humanity ? 
The might of Greece has passed away 
Like splendid pageants of a day; 
And vanished has the power of Rome 
Where all of grandeur had its home; 
But Epictetus still survives 
Teaching the wisdom of our lives; 
That fortitude is more than fate 
And man is nobler than the State. 
For you, dear friend, whose heart keeps chime 
With that vast harmony subHme 
Of universal Brotherhood, 
Each toiling for the common good. 
Some echo of that song may cheer 
Your heart within these pages here. 



30 



QUATRAIN 

THOUGH all desire should love's desire fulfill. 
Till life herself should quench her torch of fire; 
Though all it yearned of joy should crown it, still 
Would love desire. 



MY SONGS 

NOT splendor of the sky and sea. 
Nor dew^y redolence of spring. 
But dreams of rich felicity 

For w^hat the future years may bring. 
Are in the songs I sing. 

Not perfiimes of the meadow flowers. 
More sweet than incense on a shrine. 

But thoughts made fragrant by the hours 
In which existence seemed divine. 
Pervade these songs of mine. 

And never will I thrill my lyre 
Unless its cadences unite 

One lyric only — of desire; 
One carol only — of delight: 
Song's blossoms, red and white! 



31 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

THE pliant-bladed spear-grass of the fields 
In silken sheath of the green-growing corn. 
Symbols this poet of New England; born 
With all the affluence her nature yields. 
Wit weaponed with the sword which Wisdom wields; 
Song pungent with the pungency of morn; 
Laughter allied to tears, and grief to scorn. 
Such scorn as heals with love the grief it shields. 
Sunsetward, purpureal, vast, august; 
With day declining in his life's decline. 
Departing from us as we must depart. 
He left behind him with his mortal dust 
Immortal memories of a life benign. 

And great with largess of a noble heart! 



SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS 

WHAT beauteous soul was this whose grace could 
gain 
The tribute of such marvelous songs as these ? 
Richer than treasures of unfathomed seas. 
Or argosies of the Ionian main. 
Or what to all, the world may appertain: 
Homer in wisdom, like Euripides, 
The richness and felicity of ease 
Which makes each sonnet an enchanted strain. 
O golden keys to mighty Shakespeare's heart! 
Where we may see each splendid equipage 
Pass in eternal tragic forms along; 
What greater mind in what diviner part 

Hath ever trod the world's illumined stage. 
Wearing the everlasting crown of song ? 

32 



IN MEMORY OF JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 

1LAY this tribute on his hearse, 
A bitter grief expressed in song; 
Though he was nobler than all verse. 
And nobler wreaths to him belong. 

For rhymes that ring cannot express 
The grander praise we would bestow 

To him whose greatness grows not less; 
Whose fame is everlasting now. 

And everlastingly abides 

Whilst Art in her dominion reigns. 

What else remains in life besides ? 
To us and all what else remains ? 

Since fugitive this life we pass 

In desolation and in grief; 
And as the dewdrop on the grass. 

As evanescently is brief. 

But no immortal spirit swerves 

To paths of dalliance defiled; 
But only for the Master serves. 

And to the Father is a child! 



33 



A PRAYER 



OTHOU in whose eternal power 
I place my faith and trust, 
I realize it every hour 
That I am but of dust. 

That I am formed alone of clay 

Whose life is but a span; 
Though everlasting seems to-day 

The soul that makes me man. 

The soul that gave me light to see. 
And gives me thoughts to speak; 

Making of my impiety 

A thing both base and weak. 

I seek Thee, God, in pure belief. 
In faith that makes men strong; 

Not in a tragedy of grief 
Enacted in a song. 

I seek Thee through communion wise 

With holiest of men; 
In Books revealing prophecies 

Penned by no mortal pen. 

I seek Thee in remotest fields 

Of planet-peopled space; 
Or in what life to reason yields 

Of Love and Hope and Grace, 

I seek Thee in the fern or flower. 

Within the seed of fruit; 
Not making energy the power 

Creator absolute. 

34 



I seek Thee in whatever mould ^ Prayer 

I dream Thou may est be; 
Whose mighty purpose worlds unfold 

Through all eternity, 

O lead me outward from the dark. 

And guide me in my need; 
\^ I am only, God, a spark. 

Be Thou a sun indeed! 



LULLABY SONG 

IN the fields of heaven are all His sheep; 
Lo, the pale shepherdess them attending! 
God hath given her them to keep. 
All her grace is in His befriending. 
Well she knoweth what they are. 
Well she knoweth — each a star — 
Slowly from the azured steep. 

Slowly, slowly, is she descending. 
Why do you weep, my little one, why do you weep ? 
Sleep ! Sleep ! 

In the fields of heaven 'tis time to reap; 

See, where the reaper is onward wending. 
The winds of heaven before him creep. 
And the golden poppies are lowly bending. 
Well he knoweth, near or far. 
Where the blissful harvests are: 
For God has called to him out of the deep. 

It is His messenger He is sending. 
Why do you weep, my little one, why do you weep ? 
Sleep ! Sleep ! 



35 



LOVE'S CROWN 

ONE crown less won from the world around us. 
One wreath less worn round the pale, sad brow; 

Love, we have found Love ! Had Love not found us. 
What were the worth of the world to us now ? 

Could I deem it ideal, or glorify it 

With song, devoted to song for love's sake? 

The lark sings sweetest to heaven when nigh it; 
Could it sing to the earth and its heart not break ? 

So I sang to heaven, for heaven was thee, love; 
What garlands of flowers my wings could bind ? 

1 yearned for the dawn, and my pinions when free, 

love. 
Soared heavenward, leaving the earth behind. 

And having soared with thy soul beside me. 
And having sung with thy soul to mine. 

The crown of fame which the world denied me 
Is replaced by the crown of thy love divine. 

One crown less won from the earth around us; 

Alas! for such crowns as the world can give. 
O Love, we have found Love ! Had not Love found us. 

What were the worth of the life that we live ? 



36 



ALL WORK IS PRAYER 

ALL work is prayer beneath the sun; 
The laborer is God's true priest: 
Will he not ask, '*What have ye done ? " 
Of those who only play and feast ? 

The world is one great hive of toil; 

Man's ministry through ages past 
Has glorified the common soil 

To raise God's altar there at last. 

No other shrine his worship needs; 

No other prayer for Jew or Turk, 
Gentile, or men of various creeds. 

Except the glorious prayer of work. 

Work! noble, pure, devout- — baptized 
By man alone, the living prayer: 

Work sanctified! but equahzed. 
So that each one shall do his share. 

No kings; no beggars: none so great 
As to despise the hands that toil 

To build the true Fraternal State 
In every land, on every soil, 

O ye who strive to break the ban. 
Still laboring from year to year 

To bring equality to man. 

Work on! work on! the time is near. 



37 



ANACREON IN OLD AGE 

WILL Eros come unto me now. 
When I with years am laden; 
And ivy-wreathe my furrowed brow. 
And woo me like a maiden ? 

Doth the god dream I can express 

The passion of that singer. 
The youth he was so wont to bless. 

Who in his fane did linger ? 

Glory with pure rainbow wings! 
O potent god enthralling! 

Upon this head, more crowned than kings. 
Life's autumn leaves are falling. 

You archly bid me to resume 

The lyre's sweet song with singing; 

1 cannot woo a rose in bloom 

Where nightingales are winging. 

Swayed boughs innumerous and the low 

Susurrus of the river. 
Murmur those songs of long ago 

Of which you were the giver. 

And will you bid me touch my lyre 
Wreathed with garlands floral; 

And sing an idyll to Desire 
Most passionately choral ? 

O Son of Venus and Delight! 

What dreams have then departed. 
That though you thrill me with your might 

No song hath yet upstarted ? 

38 



Your fragrant plumes, your burnished bow, Anacreon 

Wave round me, Eros, gently; ^'« Old Age 

With but a garland bind my brow. 
And I shall sing presently. 

What though I lack the matchless grace 

For amorous complaining ? 
And in the sadness of my face 

No ardor is remaining ? 

And rosy lips are pale with age. 

And raven locks are hoary ? 
More beautiful the vassalage. 

More wonderful the glory. 

Then let the radiance of Love's eyes 

Beam on me calm and tender; 
And I his mighty melodies 

Will sing again with splendor. 

And from the forest haunts and deeps. 

Where Echo lies forsaken; 
And from each grot where silence sleeps. 

Shall hymns to Eros waken. 

And every haunting form and shape 

Now amorously pining. 
Shall quaff the nectar of the grape 

On violet lawns reclining, 

God, whose glory is divine. 
Whose radiant steps I follow; 

1 sing, but all the song is thine, 

O Eros, my Apollo! 



39 



Anacreon Fill high the golden cup and quaff 

in Old Age A truce to melancholy! 

Have we not sweeter cause to laugh. 
Though life seem nought but folly ? 

Fill up the beaker to the brim! 

Nor let the lips be sated 
Until the dewy eyes are dim. 

When night and dawn are mated. 

Drink, drink the wine that gives us joy ! 

Though in a sanctuary. 
Is life less life, if love 's less coy ? 

Drink, drink! let us be merry. 

Drink to the sacred gods above; 

Drink to the fates below us! 
What greater gifts than wine and love 

And song, could they bestow us ? 

Drink to the seasons of the year. 
Or hoar with rime, or vernal; 

The fruitful Earth; whose nectar here 
Makes love seem life eternal! 

Drink to the humid lips and eyes 
With youth and ardor burning: 

"Alas! the dust upon them Ues, 
To dust they, too, are turning. 

Changeless may be the stars, and suns 
And moons upon us shining. 

But ah, for we unhappy ones. 
We change in all but pining. 



40 



Drink, so that we may manumit Anacreon 

The heavy doom that fetters in Old Age 

Our souls to earth; and rise, and sit 
Like gods among our betters. 

Drink to the wheel whose every spoke 

Whirls round to joy or sorrow. 
Hyperion's steeds may slip their yoke 

And bring us no to-morrow. 

One cupful in this urn of dust 

In honor of the Giver 
Of all good things. Soon, soon we must 

With Charon cross the river. 

O gardens of Hesperides! 

O Circe's isle enchanted! 
Who sowed this flower of the seas ? 

The golden fruit who planted ? 

There is a song upon the wind. 

It comes from cool recesses. 
In vain the Maenads lie reclined. 

Awaiting our caresses. 

Hail, hail, O pale Persephone! 

Hail, grave, divine Demeter! 
Mighty thy underworld: but we 

This upperworld find sweeter. 

Withhold thy summons for a while; 

Fain, fain am I to bide here. 
Though thy Elysian fields beguile 

With beauteous forms denied here. 



41 



Anacreon No asphodel shall wreathe my brow 

in Old Age So long as I may linger — 

O Eros, if thou wilt, now, now. 
Now, crown thy dying singer! 

LOVE'S GIFTS 

LOVE places on the lips of Sorrow 
His perfect petals of delight; 
Brings richest dreams to crown the morrow 

In radiant visions of the night: 
Two gifts alone — as Sorrow sigheth — 

Two gifts alone doth Love deny; 
Forgetflilness of time that ilieth. 
Oblivion of the days gone by. 

Love brings not spring to old December, 

Whose eyes with bitter tears are wet; 
We ever sadden to remember. 

We ever gladden to forget. 
Within the spirit of the living 

The immemorial years decay: 
Love gives, but little is forgiving; 

Love gives — too soon to take away. 

Wherefore we deem unkind his kindness, 

. And bitter-sweet his sweetest troth; 
His gifts attribute to his blindness. 

Since joy and grief are given both. 
And on the couch of slumber lying 

We cannot close our aching eyes; 
For Sorrow seems to us undying. 

But Joy, alas ! too briefly dies. 



42 



SAINT PAULINUS 

WHEN Saint Paulinus came to preach the Christ 
Unto the people of Northumbria, 
King Edwin (saith the legend) minded most 
To hear and to behold this anchorite. 
This pure apostle of the Nazarene; 
And willing that his people too should hear 
And see this saintly proselyte of old. 
Convened a council of his chiefest men. 
Tall, blue-eyed Saxons, flaxen-haired and fair: 
And questioning if they would attend the saint. 
One of the king's thegns then stood up and said: 
'^Yea, certes, let us hsten to his rede. 
For unto me it seemeth that the life 
Of man is even as a sparrow's flight 
Through this dark chamber, where thou, king, art sitting 
At supper with thy lords and warrior-men; 
While storm and thunder, and fierce hail and snow 
Batter like armed hosts at thy castle-gates. 
The sparrow inward at one casement flying. 
Then straightway outward at another, is 
Safe from the roarings huge whilst here within; 
But soon it vanishes from sight and thence 
Into the fearful darkness whence it came. 
Just so man's life appeareth for a space. 
It disappeareth and appeareth so; 
But of what went before, what followeth. 
No being knoweth, no one learneth aught." 
O men, accept the moral of these words! 
For we who dwell in yearning and unrest. 
Toiling and moiling with an aching heart. 
With intuitions and fruitions vast; 



43 



Saint We from the haunts of nature following far 

Paulinus The purple dawn of Art's prosperity 

Into each thronged metropolis of gold. 
To consecrate the Man-Christ crucified; 
We who have pilfered space of all its stars. 
Have probed the germ-cell for its mystery. 
The microcosm in the macrocosm; 
Still, like the sparrow in the simile. 
Pass onward into darkness infinite 
Unheralded, companionless, forlorn! 
There is the evolution of the stars; 
There is the evolution of the soul; 
And we, whose faculties coordinate 
The everlasting glories of creation 
Betwixt the two polarities of God, 
The crystal and the Christ; who seem divine. 
Like the reflection of that silent city 
Upon the pinnacled glaciers of Alaska, 
Are but the strange mirage of Pasts eternal 
Reflected on the glaciers of the Present, 
A symbol everlasting to the Future! 



A WORLD OF MIST 

WE meet here in a world of mist. 
Around us are the years; 
When first we met we smiled and kissed. 
We part with sobs and tears. 

The joy of all remembering 

Is love's first, purest kiss; 
The perfect life the poets sing. 

Beloved, is but this. 

44 



TWO LOVES 



LOVE me not too much, dear. 
Think of God above; 
He is worthy such, dear. 
Who alone is love. 

I am but a leaf, dear. 

He is all the flower; 
I may bring thee grief, dear, 

Joy is all His power. 

I am but a seed, dear. 

Born to bear no fruit; 
He is all indeed, dear, 

God the absolute. 

I am but a spark, dear. 
Flickering in the night: 

Where I am is dark, dear. 
Where He is is light. 

I am but a shell, dear. 

No immortal soul: 
There were God to dwell, dear. 

What could He control? 

Sadly stained with sin, dear. 

Sin of lust and lure; 
Though God look within, dear. 

Would He make me pure? 



45 



Two Loves Though His hands efface, dear. 

Could my joy increase? 
Would He give me grace, dear? 
Would He give me peace? 

Kneel before His feet, dear. 
Pray for me besides; 

Though my life is fleet, dear. 
Yet His love abides. 

In the life to come, dear. 
In the greater birth, 

I may spring therefrom, dear. 
Purified in worth. 

In the life to be, dear. 
When this life is done, 

I may live to see, dear. 
Such a life begun. 

Then my soul shall know, dear. 
And my eyes perceive 

How divine we grow, dear. 
If we but believe. 

Ah, but faith is less, dear. 
Than His mightier thrall; 

Who alone can bless, dear. 
Being Love in all! 

Blessings then be mine, dear. 
Even while I live; 

Pardon is divine, dear. 
If but God will give. 

46 



Pardoned I may stand, dear. Two Loves 

By His holy throne, 
Clasping by the hand, dear. 

Even thee, my own! 



WARNING 



LEST passionate desire beget 
The pain that shall destroy us. 
And give eternal life regret. 

When even bliss shall cloy us; 
And make most bitter what seems sweet. 

And hardened what seems tender. 
We must tread underneath our feet 
The pleasures we surrender. 

The dearest dreams we must abjure. 

Forget what love hath spoken; 
Else what seems pure will seem impure. 

And what is whole be broken. 
Ah, dearest, though I love you now. 

And dearly, richly rate you. 
The curses of a broken vow 

Might lead my soul to hate you! 



47 



AN EARTH-SONG 

I WHIRL along — I work and weave. 
My dole of labor I receive 
From lords of day and night: 
The centuries come, the centuries pass. 
They are but as the summer grass 
That withers in my sight. 

I whirl along — I never cease 
Through all eternity's increase, 

I crave no wage of man: 
My hands are scarred with toil, my feet 
Have long forgot those pathways sweet 

Where once they blithely ran. 

I whirl along — From every field 
Men reap the harvests that I yield. 

My life is in the seed. 
I feast ahke on flesh and fi*uit. 
The Lord of all things absolute 

Provideth for my need. 

I whirl along — The lightnings fail 
To pierce the heavy coat of mail 

Around me loosely cast. 
The earthquakes scarcely stir from sleep 
The mighty monsters which I keep 

Within my caverns vast. 

I whirl along — I find my way 
Star-paven both by night and day; 
The beacon-fires I burn 



48 



Still flash across the infinite, An 

To all the worlds, their rays of light, Earth-Song 

Whose signal they return. 

I whirl along — I do my task; 
I hear the Lord above me ask, 

*^ Watchman, what of the night?" 
The stars make answer from on high. 
The suns that sweep majestic nigh 

In music pass from sight. 

Strange comets ply their shuttles swift. 
Derelict orbs before me drift 

Upon vast seas of flame. 
And myriads, myriads more than these 
Are rushing onward on those seas 

For which I have no name. 

Onward by some deep current swept. 
Faithful His mandates have I kept. 

What the Lord gives I give: 
I am the grave as well as womb, 
I am the cradle and the tomb 

Of all that breathe and live. 

I whirl along — I shall not rest 
Till I fulfill my Lord's behest. 

And am from labor free: 
Then shall I reach the goal sublime 
Coeval with eternal Time, 

And Life shall rest with me! 



49 



WHEN PEACE ON EARTH 
WILL COME AGAIN 

THE holy time has come again 
Of *^ peace on earth, good will to men." 
So sang the angels in their song 
Unto a world of want and wrong 
Their jubilation on the morn 
When Christ, the Son of Man, was born. 
Have all the centuries passed since then 
Brought peace and good will unto men? 
Have twenty centuries sufficed 
To realize the dreams of Christ, 
Our first and holiest SociaHst, 
Whom mankind crucified and hissed ? 

O kings, the favored of mankind. 

Rulers and leaders of the blind; 

Is it the Gospel that you preach 

When cannons roar and shrapnels screech ? 

BuDets and Bibles, can they be , 

Synonymous with piety ? 

^ For sovereignty maritime 
Nations have steeped themselves in crime. 
For sway over contiguous lands 
They have with blood imbued their hands. 
Till' war, like some vast python coiled 
Around the spoiler and the spoiled. 
Has crushed the spirit of the free 
And strangled human liberty. 
Ages of peace have never healed 
The scars of war's first battle-field. 



50 



I cannot hold that nation good When Peace on 

Which is opposed to brotherhood; Earth Will 

Or through its laws does all it can Come Again 

To trample on the rights of man. 

Proclaim it through the universe. 

Commercial empire is a curse! 

It crushes where it should uplift; 

It sets all moral law adrift; 

Manacles manhood with a chain 

Forged by the blood-red hand of Cain; 

Pollutes love's temple with its lust. 

Breeds avarice, rapine, and distrust; 

And places Mammon in the shrine 

Where Christ should be by right divine. 

So long as labor, every age. 

Is scarcely paid a living wage; 

So long as those who Hve by toil 

Are deemed the refuse of the soil. 

While those who ever labor least 

Are still the lords of every feast; 

So long as Dives sits in state 

While Lazarus is at the gate; 

So long as want and wealth contrast 

So disproportionally vast; 

And Wealth stalks onward in his pride 

A sensuous liberticide; 

So long as wrong oppresses right. 

And law is in the hands of might; 

And as in all the ages past 

This world is but a world of caste; 

However much divinely hailed. 

The gospels of the world have failed! 



51 



When Peace on When over all the world will be 

Earth Will A state of pure equality; 

Come Again When Socialism takes its place 

And binds in brotherhood each race; 

When men believe not in the creed. 

But in the doing of a deed; 

When swords will rust within their sheath 

And cannons wear the olive wreath; 

When men will labor everywhere. 

But each according to his^ share; 

And at the forge or mill or mine 

Prove human brotherhood divine; 

And in the field or in the mart 

Build tabernacles of the heart; 

When all the world will be one kin. 

And no one more or less therein. 

But all for one and one for all. 

And free from superstition's thrall; 

And Christ's great law has come to birth. 

And justice reigns upon the earth — 

The holy time will come again 

Of *' peace on earth, good will to men." 

But not till then, but not till then! 



52 



A LITANY 

HERE since twilight have I waited. 
Love, for one who came of yore; 
Yearning with a soul unsated 
Evermore. 

Had she not redeemed my days. Love, 
Touched my lips with hallowed fire. 
What were vainer many ways. Love, 
Than desire ? 

What were vainer than desire. Love, 

In this garden here forlorn ? 
Where through boughs that burn as fire. Love, 
Glows the morn. 

Glows on goldenrod and aster. 

Mingling with the fronded ferns; 
While my aching heart beats faster 
As it yearns. 

What were vainer. Love, were sadder 

That such yearning and desire? 
Since the summons came that bade her 
Soul soar higher. 

These withal for her have faded. 
Dancing fields of poppies red ; 
Violets, or some sweet shaded 
Pansy-bed. 



53 



A Litany Meadow-larks in fragrant clover. 

Thrushes singing clear and strong; 
Singing gladly, singing over 
All the song: 

These she nevermore will hear. Love, 

From the couch that curtained dawn. 
She is gone. Love ! Never fear. Love, 
She is gone! 

As a field of flowers scentless. 

So she lay when hushed her breath; 
Smitten by the pale, relentless 
Hand of death. 

Virginal her bloom but fruitless^; 

Beautiful her form though cold: 
And the earth hath but one youth less 
Midst its old. 

communal service broken! 
O the sacrament deterred. 

Ere the Master's lips had spoken 
But a word! 

1 await her late and early. 

Kneeling where her feet have trod: 
' While she is within the pearly 
Gates of God. 



54 



For I came not to the service, A Litany 

Where the bread and wine of Christ, 
Even to some brooding dervis. 
Had sufficed. 

But I come now to this garden. 
And I weep here by the gate: 
I am waiting for her pardon; 
Love, I wait! 



MAXIMS 



BE good and pure and true. 
Be gentle and be kind ; 
Thy soul be like the dew. 

And like a flower thy mind: 
Be righteous and be just. 

Be loving unto all. 
For 'tis thy soul which must 
Have angel robes for pall. 



55 



CITY OF THE SUNSET 

METROPOLIS of imminent decay! 
Vast citadel of towering gold! despoiled 

Ere scarce the sun's mage from yon clouds had toiled 
To build each battlement of but a day: 
What legionaries in what giant fray — 

Or numberless besieging foes, erst foiled. 

Around its mighty bastioned walls now coiled. 
Crush it with irresistible array ? 
League upon league, seen limitless, afar. 

Those burnished walls extend. Host upon host 

Surges against each portal-holocaust; 
Then rushes on Hyperion's fiery car: 

Slowly the vision fadeth, and, from post 
To post. Night sentinels each flaming star! 



TWILIGHT 

THE pomp and vast processional of day. 
With panoplies and banners sun-emblazed. 
Like some triumphal trophies heavenward raised. 
In purpled distances has passed away. 
And passed the multitudinous array 

Of golden glorious clouds, whose radiance dazed 
The spirit that beheld them; rapt, amazed 
At- the refiilgency of their display. 
Drowsied, 'neath drooping boughs and dripping leaves. 
The haunt of slumber and the shrine of peace; 
Lulled with melodious melancholy tones 
Of that sweet bird which in the silence grieves, 
I dreamt I had at last of life surcease. 

Ringed round with death as Saturn with his zones ! 

56 



LIFE'S GIFTS 

WHAT are the gifts Life doth give ? 
Hopes, that seem born of mistrust. 
Blisses, a moment to live. 

Blossoms and blooms of the dust. 

Perflimeless poppies of sleep. 
Dreams, or the dirge of desire; 

Passions, Hke waves of the deep 
Washed upon beaches of fire. 

Ardours, of terrible might; 

Sorrows, of infinite pain ; 
Joy, for a robe of delight ; 

Grief, for a crown of disdain. 

These are Life's gifts. But the best 
Gift is the gift when she saith, 

**Rest, weary wanderer, rest : 

Thine be the gift now of death ! ' ' 



ENCOURAGEMENT 

WE should not scatter seeds of hate 
If we would gather flowers of love. 
Nor curse our destiny and fate. 
Life's potentiahties thereof: 

I hold there is a richer truth 

That we may cling to, if we will ; 

And lingering in the fields of youth 

Our hands should cull Love's blossoms still. 



57 



A WORLD-SONG FOR PEACE 

SO long as the weaponed hand of one is uplifted to 
smite another. 
So long as man is alien to man, and each knows not 

his brother. 
So long is there still one mighty truth which must all 

the nations leaven. 
And help to make a heaven of hell instead of a hell 
of heaven. 

Though kings disagree, O People, be free! and banded 

like brothers together; 
There is only one law of God for all, — why should 

every flock have its wether ? 
Open your eyes to the bitter truth, 'tis the rulers who 

sow sedition 
To impede the march of Brotherhood on its great and 

glorious mission. 

Cease building your steel-clad ships of war, — not thus 

can you be protected; 
For never a home on the raging foam was ever for 

peace erected. 
Cease sending your bloody armies forth to engage in a 

world-wide battle. 
Till east and west, and south and north, the people are 
. slain like cattle. 

Look at the red, red sea into which your leaders fain 

would lead you! 
Since for their good ye spill your blood, why is it they 

do not precede you ? 



58 



O mighty seamen of every main! O toilers of every A World-Song 
nation! for Peace 

Is it not time to unite again and issue a new Declara- 
tion ? 

For whom do you kill ? for whom do you bleed ? for 

whom is your vast endeavor? 
Who took from the slave whatever he gave, yet kept 

him a slave forever ? 
Did millions decree he should be free, and now would 

you slay one another ? 
Black, yellow, or white, who has most right, since 

Earth is our mighty mother? 

Lo, this was of old Christ's simple plan; ** Do as you 

would be done by." 
This was the doctrine which every man and woman 

could be won by. 
And do you follow the law who smite before you are 

ever smitten ? 
And have you not heard of the ancient saw, how oft 

the biter is bitten ? 

For they shall perish by the sword who lead to the 

fields of slaughter. 
Still making crimson the paths of the Lord with blood 

spilt like to water; 
Since men at best are as fiends indeed, and madness is 

all their praying. 
When they slay their kind for lust of greed, or slay for 

the lust of slaying. 



59 



A World-Song Bethink you of how great nations decay; of mighty 
/or Peace empires now sunken; 

Conquest was theirs but a little day, with glory their 

hearts were drunken; 
Then bid the roar of the cannons cease, now thunder- 
ing in many regions. 
That underneath the banners of Peace may march 
earth's myriad legions. 

O foolish dream of the rulers who scheme to fetter the 

eagle's pinions! 
You are better by far than king or czar, though vast 

be their world-dominions. 
From age to age they have bid you wage their battles 

of blood for booty. 
Is it over the dead that your feet must tread to learn 

of a grander duty ? 

O People of every land and sea! O Brothers! let me 

beseech you: 
There is only one way that you may be free, no 

matter what men may teach you. 
Whatever your color, whatever your creed, wherever 

the soil you cling to. 
There is only one country for which to bleed, there is 

only one flag to sing to. 

Let there be unfiirled a flag of the world; the flag of 

a world united: 
Let it stand for the Right against all Might, until every 

wrong is righted. 
A banner to be of all Nations free! and in union with 

one another; 
A world-wide clan where every man will greet every 

man as his brother ! 

60 



HOPE 

HOPE blesses life: she doth not scorn to toil. 
She doth not fear to bear; 
So that a flower grow upon the soil 
When but a weed grew there. 

Her gifts are God's: she comes divine with such. 

Too saintly to deny. 
We do not sorrow, though we sorrowed much. 

When she is standing by. 

Are we forlorn? She draws the veil apart 

That hides the coming years. 
The dreams that she reveals us bring the heart 

Their benison of tears. 

Are we alone? Companionship most sweet 

She gives when we despond: 
To her the flowers that wither at our feet 

Are as the stars beyond. 

She bathes our brows with spikenard and with spice. 

Most pure is her caress : 
No sorrow is for her a sacrifice. 

Who ever comes to bless. 

Even among the denizens of sin 

Lips haggard call her saint ; 
Stainless in purity she walks within 

Those pathways foul with taint. 



6i 



Hope But by the couch of pain so near to death 

She loves the best to steal: 
The Angel of her Lord of Nazareth, 
Who came the sick to heal. 

'Tis she that ministers to every flov^er 
That grows on Sorrow's slope; 

Eternity itself is in the horn- 
That brings eternal Hope. 

Remembrances committed to regret. 

Memorials pure of love. 
To her are precious. Though her goal is set 

Beyond them, far above. 

She doth not faithless grow like Love or Fame ; 

And were our hearts more wise. 
We would enshrine her by a holier name 

And call her. Paradise! 



I CANNOT MOURN 

I CANNOT mourn a manhood now 
Misspent upon a tideless deep ; 
Each one hath bitter seeds to sow. 

Each one hath bitter fruit to reap. 
And yet though vassal to despair. 

And in the pit of pain entombed, 
I wreathe my brows with flowers more fair 
Than once in Eden's garden bloomed. 



62 



PSYCHE 

AN EPISODE AT DAWN 

BEAUTIFUL Psyche wandered forth forlorn. 
Seeking for Cupid. And while yet the Morn 
Lingered amidst the flowery vales of Crete, 
Or sped with gorgeous plumes and roseate feet 
Over the purpled hills ; and in the east 
The splendors of her pageantry increased 
In pomp of gold and crimson, she did pass 
Into a forest cool with sward of grass. 
And hushed, except when the melodious lay 
Was heard of the sweet birds on bough and spray 
Trilling their joyous rondels to the day. 
It was a sacred forest, and therein 
Were many winding pathways, from the din 
Of outer regions leading onward far 
Beyond the luster of the morning star. 
To fragrant haunts and bowers, that unknown 
To Helios seemed, where wood-nymphs dwelt alone. 
Its innermost recesses kept concealed 
A marble temple ; whence the gods revealed 
Their wisdom unto men, who, near and far. 
Sought its prophetic fane oracular. 
Thither did Psyche wander, seeking still 
Cupid, her lord. Now by a httle rill 
She stayed her pearly feet a while to cull 
Some of its ferns and flowers beautiful. 
And pensively she watched its ripples run 
Among the rushes and the speargrass dun; 
Now kissing the mossed stones and pebbles white. 
Till in the distance like a ray of light 
It pierced the umbrage through. Now seemed to pass 
More joyfully beneath the tremulous mass 



63 



Psyche Of ferns and odorous foliage, as aware 

Of the sweet presence of the maiden there. 

From far its music tinkled in her ear; 

Which made her pause and listen, half in fear. 

Deeming perchance that Pan, with pipe of reeds. 

Lay fluting mellowly among the weeds; 

But only the pure rill before her gaze 

Mumured its ceaseless croon. She watched the ways 

In which it danced along; then stood a space. 

Beholding in its stream her beauteous face. 

Mirrored delight and love made doubly sweet. 

Ere that she stepped across with timid feet. 

It almost seemed to give the river bliss 

Such purity and loveliness to kiss. 

From ivory hands, scooped to a little shell. 

She quaffed the cooling water as it fell. 

Then hastening from the brook, she reached a lawn 

To which the fairest flowers had withdrawn. 

Swinging their fragrant censers in the dawn. 

Crocus and hyacinth, and lilac pale. 

And melilot, and slender galingale. 

And amaranthus and the jessamine. 

And blooms with chalices incarnadine ; 

And other precious herbs she scarcely knew. 

Virginal with their coronals of dew. 

Of these she culled the fairest in her sight. 

Purple and gold, and iris-hued and white. 

To place upon the altar, where she fain 

Some knowledge of her Cupid might obtain : 

And learn where he might bide whom she had lost. 

Now as she passed beyond the lawn and crossed 

A daisied mead, from out a forest haunt 

There fled an Oread, followed by a gaunt 

Goat-footed satyr, whom she had escaped. 

Lured by her woodland loveliness undraped, 

64 



The satyr still pursued her in her flight ; Psyche 

Psyche bewailed the nymph's dolorous plight 

And vainly would assist, when lo, a horn 

Sounded, from dewy uplands faintly borne. 

And as she turned, from under shady boughs 

There came a splendid presence : marble brows 

Gleaming, and crowned by starry diadem; 

And all the tresses starred with many a gem. 

And in her hand she held a bow of gold. 

And glittering shafts were seen amidst the fold 

Of her bright kirtle. As she sped apace. 

Heartening the hounds pursuing in the chase. 

And followed by her nymphs, her loud halloo ! 

Sounded like music all the woodland through. 

And Psyche marveled in her heart to see 

One she had worshiped as a deity 

Like huntress clad. When all had fled afield. 

And to her straining eyes was nought revealed. 

Psyche resumed her way; and underneath 

A mighty oak, resting a while, to breathe 

Its balm, beyond its foliage green a sight 

She saw that filled her bosom with affright. 

In sinuous voluptuousness of form. 

Sensuous and palpitating, flushed and warm 

With fumes of wine, a sweet Bacchante lay. 

And o'er her a rude satyr tore away 

Her leafy covering as she lay reposed. 

And at this flower-Hke loveliness disclosed 

Denuded, gloated, with his heart aflame. 

In passionate unconsciousness of shame. 

Fast Psyche flew, nor cast one look behind. 

Her golden hair disheveled by the wind. 

Beyond the distant peaks, amidst the blue 

Serene of heaven, shone the stars, though few. 

For dawn now purpled all the steeps, and filled 

65 



Psyche The chalice of the day with light that spilled 
Its rainbow-colored gems on earth below. 
Poor Psyche panted like a little doe 
To whom the hounds gave chase ; and weak and worn. 
Must rest a while her fluttering heart forlorn. 
When lo, Apollo's glory in her eyes: 
Through multitudinous boughs she saw arise 
The sacred temple's alabaster walls. 
Gleaming afar like crystal waterfalls! 
Swiftly she hastened onward, reaching soon 
Its portal, lustrous like a crescent moon. 
And passed beyond, and sought the holy shrine ; 
Invoking thence the oracle divine. 
But first around the temple's marble urns 
She wreathed all her fragrant flowers and ferns ; 
Thqn kneeling by the altar, made her plea: 
**0 God of all this world, O deity! 
Nay, all ye gods and goddesses above ! 
Where may I seek for Cupid, Lord of Love ! 
All radiant essences of day and night. 
All beautifli] forms that give the soul delight. 
Attend his steps. The singing of the birds 
Sounds harsh to one who hears his dulcet words. 
The liquid lapse of cadences that bind 
Music to speech. O tell me where to find 
This glory on the earth, incarnate bliss. 
Whose honeyed lips 'tis ecstasy to kiss ? 
Where winnows he his plumes ? To what far place 
Now lends the dazzling luster of his face. 
Leaving me lorn ? O oracle, respond ! 
Where may I seek him, in what lands beyond ? 
Or over flowerless furrows of what sea. 
Who is sun, moon, and stars, and all to me ? ' ' 
She ceased for very grief to supplicate : 
And while beside the altar she did wait 

66 



Its fuming incense languorously crept Psyche 

Over the kneeling maiden, and she slept. 

And while she slept she dreamed, and seemed to hear 

A low voice gently whispering in her ear: 

** O foolish maid, though innocent in mind. 

Know 'tis not those who seek for Love that find. 

Who seek him not, he comes unsought to those ; 

Since sweetest the undreamed-of boon. Love knows. 

Vain thy appeal, and vain thy coming here. 

And vain thy fragrant offerings of the year 

That wreathe our sacred shrine. Canst thou recall 

Their bloom, once faded, and their leaves that fall ? 

As vain to seek for Love, who long hath laughed 

At hearts sore smitten by his burning shaft. 

Return from whence you came; there like a bride 

Await him, who comes always unespied. 

Prepare thy nuptial couch, and roses strew 

Upon it, and before thy portal too. 

And leave thy casement open to the night. 

And the lamp burning dim to guide his sight. 

And then if slumber should thy eyes oppress. 

Sleep, until wakened by his warm caress. 

But this wise counsel do the gods bestow. 

Since easily is bliss exchanged for woe : 

Whatever gifts Love give thee, for his sake. 

Accept them, whether sleeping or awake. 

Nor question more, nor seek therein to pry. 

Since to become too curious, is to die." 

Psyche awakened from her wondrous trance, 

A new light dawning on her countenance ; 

Then blessed the holy shrine, and went her way 

Home through the forest glorious now with day. 



67 



LORD LOVE 



LOVE once lived a hermit's life. 
Robed in girdled frock and hood; 
Till men called him forth to strife. 
From his hut in underwood. 

Then in armor wrought of steel 
Battled he with mighty strength; 

And men suffered for his weal. 

For he conquered them at length. 

Thus did Love become a lord 
Over all the hearts of men: 

And to every region poured 

Those who bore his standard then. 

And they sang with mingled breath 
This most chivalrous refrain, 

'^ Love doth give us pain to death. 
Yet a death that is no pain." 

So men rear his standard up. 

With its burnished trophies rare; 

And they pledge him in a cup. 
Pledge the god who is so fair. 

For what reck they of the strife 
Which had given him the sway. 

Since the lord who rules their hfe 
Rules a life of love alway ? 



68 



DREAMERS 

THE vastest potency men attribute 
To highest powers. Yet they seek in vain 

To find v^ho wrought the seed that brings the grain; 
To whom belongs the marvel of the fruit. 
And all that springeth from a hidden root. 

O vanity of vanities again! 

If wisdom rankling into fierce disdain 
Can deem divinity not absolute. 
Swiftly the hours of pleasure fleet away; 

The sorrow-laden hours creep along. 

Life loves to sing her everlasting song — 
** To-morrow and to-morrow is to-day." 

And we, who are we? Are we are right or wrong ! 
Dreamers of God, or perishable clay ? 

PHANTOMS 

THESE let us question not — the Powers that sway 
The dim dominion of man's mightiest dreams; 

And that ** incarnate mystery" which seems 
Lowlier and yet far holier than they. 
For unto these all reverence we pay: 

Part of the vast creation's cosmic schemes. 

Source of all glory, love which all redeems. 
Life, whereunto our life is but a day. 
Such symbol God's illimitable law: 

Hope, Faith, Truth, Beauty, Virtue, and Delight; 

Star kindling star, they rise upon our sight. 
But what of phantoms thrilling us with awe? 

Spirits that sway the soul with passionate might? 
Fiends spumed from some dread evil demon' s maw ! 



69 



''PAPA, WILL YOU READ?" 

OFTEN when my head is bowed. 
Deep in thought, above some page. 
Though so brief the time allowed 

For my spirit to engage 
In those studies that rejoice, 
Cometh one with gentle voice 
(How can I but give it heed !) 
Pleading, *' Papa, will you read?" 

O my boy, if you but knew 
(O if we but knew ourselves!) 

All the work that I must do. 

With such books upon the shelves; 

Little would you then intrude 

To disturb my solitude. 

And compel my soul to heed. 

Pleading, *' Papa, will you read?" 

'' Yes, my boy," (O what a glance!) 

'' Shall it be Defoe or Grimm; 
Fairy tale or bright romance; 

Shall we tread the jungle dim. 
Or shall Hawthorne lead us on 
To the golden fields of Dawn ? 
But first call your sister too." 
(O my boy, if you but knew !) 



70 



Then they climb upon my chair, ^'Papa, will 

Facing me on either side; you read? ' 

One with wealth of curly hair. 

One with eyes (O heart, thy pride!) 

Gazing eagerly to look 

For the pictures in the book 

Which I hold within my hand. 

Being tales of Fairyland, 

Is it thus, dear ones, you lift 

My frail spirit from the Slough 
Of Despond, so I may sift 

My life's wheat before me now? 
Shall I scorn to learn the truth ? 
Shall I weep a wasted youth. 
Turning with despairing look 
From my soul's neglected book? 

Let me live to turn the page ! 

Teach me, O my God, to write 
What shall satisfy the sage. 

And yet give a child delight; 
That when done thy tasks imposed. 
And this Book of Life is closed, 
I shall not be shamed to plead 
Humbly, *^ Father, will you read?" 



71 



MAURICE THOMPSON — IN MEMORIAM 

SADLY the gray-eyed Dawn unbars 
Her gates to let Hyperion through; 
The mournful sentinels of stars 

Retire into their tents of blue: 
The weeping vestals of the sod 
Uplift their tearful eyes to God. 

For ere Diana's bugles blow 

Their first reveille to the morn. 
The fatal summons come and go. 

Upon the wings of Azrael borne: 
The shadowy valleys far beyond 
To all the somber hills respond. 

And then all living things awake. 

Who are of earth a denizen: 
But O what magic hand can break 

The spell that binds one man of men ! 
The gentle heart now calm and still. 
So acquiescent to God's will. 

The Muse who claimed him for her own. 

Laments in vain her noble son; 
Fame, stepping from her lofty throne 

To crown him, ere his race was done, 
. Weaves cypress in her laurel-wreath 
To place upon his grave beneath. 

The woodland creatures which he knew — 
They brought his soul such pure content — 



72 



With whom in kinship still he grew Maurice 

Within their leafy tenement, Thompson 

Would they not grieve if made aware 
On what lone quest he must now fare? 

And shall we mourn for him to-day 

Because his guerdon soon was won ? 
He who late bore into the fray 

The banner of a Roussillon. 
All toil for him is rest; all strife 
Merged in the universal Hfe. 

The star that guides him goes before; 

He follows where the spirit leads. 
To God's vast realms one great soul more 

Departs, illustrious for his deeds. 
Peace be with him: but grief for us. 
Who loved him and who lost him thus ! 



SHE KNOWS 

SHE knows who knows me best 
Why she to me is loveliest; 
How birds that sing and flowers that grow 
Bring love's dehcious overflow 
Of gladness to my thrilling sense 
Through womanhood I reverence. 
She knows who knows me all 
How all this wonder could befall; 
Shrining within me, sweet and pure. 
The angel in love's garniture. 



73 



STAR AND FLOWER 

WERT thou a star that would be to me 
Radiant with glory of light and balm; 
Set like an isle in an azure sea. 

An isle of beauty and peace and calm; 
A star to which in the hush of night. 

When blossoms sleep, and winds are still, 
A spirit might kneel in pure delight. 
Ah, what a bliss would my spirit fill! 

Wert thou a flower to my caress. 

Rich with a fragrance too pure to breathe; 
Perfect in bloom and in loveliness. 

Such as the brow of a god might wreathe; 
Or lie like a gem in a maiden's hair. 

Wherein to glow like a jeweled seal. 
Mingling its scent with the perfume there. 

Ah, what a joy would my spirit feel! 

But thou art neither a star nor flower. 

Only a maiden both fair and sweet; 
A sunbeam born of the passing hour. 

Breaking the shadows before my feet. 
And yet because I must yearn for bliss. 

And thrill my soul with the sad desire, 
I dream thou art such a flower as this, 

I dream thou art such a star of fire! 



74 



VISIONS 

WHAT antique pageantry of shades forlorn 
Treads stately through the regions of my brain ? 

What revelries made prodigal through pain 
Of brooding thought ? Sounds of some mighty horn. 
As if through valleys green and forests borne; 

Thunder of battle on a sodden plain. 

Mingle with visions of a motley train 
Arrayed in vestures as of crimson morn. 
Then silence sweet succeeds, and, to the sight. 

The balm of blindness: to the weary mind 
The peace of placid days on some green height 

Beneath whose slope rich pastures roll away. 
Gone are those marvelous visions; and behind 

The mist-clad hills I see the bteak of day ! 



ORNAMENTS 

LET not the world submit itself to show. 
For ornament serves only to demean. 
Whilst all the opulence that we forego 

Will nearer bring the greater world unseen. 
Is it the gaudy plumage of the birds 

That wafts sweet melody from scented boughs ? 
Can jewels make more pure the crown that girds 

With chastity the maidens' marble brows ? 
Kingly the nature kingly, not the state 

Which circumscribes it; nor the robe nor crown; 
Nor servitors, nor lords in arms of steel. 
Bare as yon blue skies is the form of Fate 

When from the heavens she descendeth down. 
To seal men's lips with her eternal seal ! 

75 



SAMSON -LABOR 

O SAMSON - LIKE and blind, with hair -shorn 
strength 
Seems Labor now; 
Who will awake him in his might at length ? 

Who will remind him of his noble vow. 
To preach to all the people of each nation 
The glorious gospel of Emancipation ? 

Lo, from the temple of Humanity 

There comes a voice; 
It thunders to his heart and cries, ^* Be free! 
That all the world of workers may rejoice. 
Are you — who won world-battles with your bravery — 
Content to wear the fetters of such slavery ? 

<* No chains, however strong, can ever bind 

With iron bands 
The freedom of your soul. Awake, and find 
You are not even free in Freedom's lands. 
Has God decreed that you alone should labor. 
And be a wage-slave to your wealthy neighbor ? 

^< Will you forever toil for lord or king ? 

O bitter shame ! 
Will you the fruits of all your labor bring 

That millionaires may fatten on the same ? 
The whirlwind they have sowed is ripe for reaping; 
The scythe of vengeance is within your keeping. 



76 



** O Samson-Labor, they believe you blind, Samson- Labor 

Those masters, who 
However much you toil and toil will find 

Still greater toil for your strong hands to do. 
Hark! do you not hear war's dread bugles blowing? 
Whither are all those mighty armies going ? 

** All glorious works on earth by you were built; 

On every soil 
The dew-drops of your agony are spilt. 

What vast endurance, what eternal toil ! 
Yet when I read the annals of your story. 
Who has received the guerdon of such glory? 

'* Look upwards to the rainbows that I make 

Over your head: 
Let all the world perceive you are awake. 
And that your noble spirit is not dead. 
The greed of all the ages and their burden 
Must never rob you of your splendid guerdon. 

**For this, O Samson-Labor, all my strength 

I give you now: 
For this I give you perfect sight at length. 

And place this crown of thorns upon your brow: 
You are the true Christ of Emancipation; 
Go forth and preach the gospel to each nation ! ' ' 



n 



DIVINE ORDINANCES 

THOUGH all seems visibly design. 
Thy wisdom is not understood; 
Yet all Thy wonders are divine. 

And all Thy works are wrought for good. 

An humble and a contrite heart, 

O God, Thou never canst despise ; 

For we of Thee are still a part. 

Though Thou art all, our soul replies. 

Yea, all art Thou in every way; 

So far our spirits may perceive 
As our life's woof day after day 

The fatal shuttles weave and weave. 

Why ever woven who can tell 

But those who run Thy fabric through? 

Threads crimson with the fires of hell. 
Threads colored like the heaven's blue. 

How shall we best deserve Thy praise. 
And all Thy wondrous gifts that bless ? 

How make the fullness of the days 
Conquer vast fate's gigantic stress? 

How shall we gain life's splendid crown ? 

How reach through toil and suffering 
The faith that makes the veriest clown 

Equal in glory with a king ? 



78 



For greater grows our faith in Thee, Divine 

Richer our patience and our trust Ordinances 

That all which is humanity 
Is not corruptible to dust. 

That though our forms be of the sod. 

And moulded by the hands of fate. 
Our souls can reach to thee, O God, 

Though ages bar us from the gate. 

Vast aeons pass ; they are a day 

To Thy omniscience divine: 
Great empires flourish and decay. 

Stars crumble, suns shall cease to shine : 

Yet truly shall we come to know 

That perfect faith is not in vain. 
And shatter with one mighty blow 

The fetters of this earthly chain! 



THE AWAKENING 

ONE by one have bloomed and perished 
Every blossom that I cherished. 
Dim the eyes which fondly beaming 
Brought my soul such pure delight ; 

Life has passed from me in dreaming, 
I awaken in the night : 
What is God if I am right ? 



79 



BIRD AND FLOWER 

HAD I the voice of a bird could I sing it ? 
Had I the fragrance of flowers could I breathe it ? 
Had I the wings of the morn could I bring it ? 
Had I the glory of twilight bequeath it ? 
This that is mine, dear. 
The love I enshrine, dear ; 
The love as a god with the crown that I wreathe it. 

Everything, sweet, that is beautiful passes; 
Everything nature still nurtures diurnal: 
Birds and the fields' fairest flowers and grasses; 
Only the stars in the heavens supernal. 
Love is a star, love. 
Shining afar, love; 
Love is a star in its glory eternal! 

Ah, but the birds and the flowers are token 

Both of the skies and the fields they attended. 
Both can reveal what the soul leaves unspoken. 
Yea, if the song and the fragrance be blended. 
Love hath its wings, dear. 
Love as it sings, dear. 
Over the fields from the flowers ascended. 

Never of fi-agrance can flowers be sated; 

Never of song can the birds be fulfilled, dear: 
Fragrance and song in the spirit are mated. 

One in the spirit with love that is thrilled, dear: 
Thrilled with the blisses 
Of love such as this is. 
Dew from the cup that an angel hath spilled, dear! 



80 



So as we wend on our way to the altar. Bird and 

Jubilant songs shall arise from its choir, dear: Flower 

Flowers shall follow our steps, though we falter. 
Even till Hymen shall crown our desire, dear: 
Crowning immortal 
The love at his portal ; 
Until death dimmeth life's torches of fire, dear! 



AT THE WINDOW 

I SEE you at the window every night. 
And yet you will not condescend to speak: 
I oft imagine that your eyes are bright 

With love, and that love's tints suffuse your cheek; 
There like a star you linger in my sight. 
The Holy Grail my inmost soul doth seek. 

O do not put to such sweet dreams a bar. 

Nor chide what makes life's sadness pass away; 

By thinking you are fairer than a star. 
By thinking you are purer than the day; 

Dreaming that time can never come to mar 

That beautiful form wrought in God's living clay! 



8i 



THE DYING POET 

"T^IS time that I should cease to write : 

1 O happy, happy days of yore! 
Strange voices call me from the height 

With sad insistence, more and more. 
'Tis time that I should cease at last, 

O'erfraught with weariness is my soul; 
Life's phantom warder, vague and vast. 

Extorts from me eternal toll. 

then I lived alone for truth; 

I grieved not at the lapsing hours: 
Leagued in bright wonderment with youth. 

And with the soul's surpassing powers; 
And these with nature formed a link. 

I saw the peace beyond the strife 
While standing on the narrowing brink 

Of the eternal stream of life. 

God's minstrel! So I held me vowed: 

What mockery is man's conceit! 
How little is the all allowed 

Of all the vastness at our feet! 
Had I the vision or the power — 

Had I the wisdom to divine 
The mystery hidden in a flower. 

What dreams, what dreams, of old were mine ! 

Night after night; when, in the skies. 
Like some great retinue of kings, 

1 saw each mighty orb arise. 

Mars, Jupiter, Saturn with his rings ; 



82 



Night after night of lucid calm. The Dying 

Where nature's vast cathedral stood. Poet 

My thrilling spirit sang its psalm 
With life's immortal Brotherhood! 

They seemed around me, one by one : 

What knows the soul of near or far ? 
.Shakespeare, refulgent as a sun; 

And Dante, a tempestuous star; 
And Milton, seraph pure of song; 

And Homer, peer of all in prime : 
And many more that formed the throng 

Of bards in brotherhood sublime. 

We follow but the spirit-spark 

That comes from His eternal mind; 
Poor mortals groping in the dark, 

Vastness before, vastness behind ! 
What radiant visions haunt the air ? 

What angels chant antiphonies ? 
What beauteous forms are these that bare 

Love's gonfalon from over seas ? 

O could youth's days return once more; 

Bringing the keen insatiate bliss 
Of thoughts that followed fast in lore: 

Could life insurgent render this. 
Too late, too late, alas! too late; 

The shadows more and more increase: 
Like woefril Dante at the gate. 

The soul within me whispers, ** Peace!" 



83 



The Dying Peace ! — One by one we pass away — 

Poet ' O opportunity sublime. 

To make eternity's to-day 

Remembered to eternal time! 
Still is it left us to aspire. 

And with indomitable breath 
To climb to summits higher and higher 
Above the tablelands of death. 

Yet heavily the moments fall 

Upon a being bowed with care; 
And faint the spirit tones that call. 

And forms from dreamland fill the air. 
Where are the birds that sang so sweet. 

And made me kindred with their race ? 
The flowers that danced before my feet. 

Where are they gone ? to what fair place ? 

Gone! and I with them too must go: 

Rumors of battle reach my ears. 
Blow, Azrael; let thy trumpet blow! 

I enter now the vale of tears. 
Summon your hosts before my sight. 

That I may have my fill of these: — 
O father, if again I might 

Sit like a child upon your knees. 

O world of men which I must leave, 
I hungered so to win your praise! 

What bitter dole did I receive 
For all my tasks in other days. 



84 



In the bright lexicon of youth. The Dying 

Ye say, there 's no such word as fail: Poet 

I go again to seek the Truth — 

Farewell, farewell, O world; and — Hail! 



COME NOT, O DEATH! 

Come not, O Death, with brow 

Unchapleted, forlorn; 
For life too well hath taught me how 

To mourn. 
But come with radiant smile to bless 

My sad forsaken heart ; 
As lovers lingeringly caress 
Before they part. 

O come, nor tarry long! 

Am I not fair and young ? 
Come ere the ending of the song 

Be sung. 
Come as if Love were in thy place : 

(O why did he depart?) 
Be thine the passionate embrace 
That breaks my heart! 



85 



FOREWARNINGS 

DEAR, because all life is but a vision. 
And our soul's desire 
Lures us on to fields that seem Elysian; 

As a star of fire 
Lures yet guides a wanderer o'er the ocean. 

Therefore be 
What thou art in all my soul's devotion 
Unto me. 

Shall we turn Love's honeyed sweets to bitter 

With hot lips impure ? 
Nay, then swift surrender would be fitter 

Of all dreams that lure: 
Or of blissful days that bring their splendor 

To the soul. 
Not a part, but all must we surrender. 

Give the whole. 

Give, and it shall unto thee be given; 

Thus did Jesus speak. 
Look, a purer life, a richer heaven 

Doth my spirit seek. 
Shall I seek it then and not possess it. 

If we share 
That which shall reward the soul and bless it 

Here and there ? 

Here and there are one, if one we make it; 

If we break to bind. 
Lo, the past, how gladly I forsake it. 

Looking not behind. 



86 



Clasp my hands, dear; speak as I have spoken. Forewarnings 

Bless the troth: 
And its vows shall nevermore be broken 

For us both. 

Then with stronger hearts and lighter burdens 

Shall we tread life's path. 
Passion-flowers give the soul no guerdons. 

Rather fiercely scathe. 
Garland not the weary soul with glory 

Ere it win: 
Love itself, how oft — alas, the story — 

Leads to sin ! 

Shall it not be different with us, dearest. 

Dearer still than life ? 
Till the day that brings thee nearer, nearest. 

Crowns thee all my wife! 
So shall love grow precious, filled with beauty. 

Perfect, sweet: 
And our bliss before the shrine of duty 

Be complete. 



RESURGAM 

SINK not to depths of infinite decline. 
Something within the soul is still divine. 
Absorbing splendor from the furthest star: 
Life is a spirit, death its avatar. 
Love the sublime apostle of the soul. 
All things create of God, and God the goal ! 



87 



FATE 

FORTUNE is not so fickle as seems Fate, 
Although Fate be eternally decreed. 

Reap thou life's fruits; sow love not hate for seed; 
Bear thou thy cross to Calvary elate. 
Inward we are divine : soul within soul. 

Zone within zone, God centered in all things. 
Immortally we struggle for the goal; 

** Onward," the voice of Hope within us sings. 
Not in despondency nor in despair 

Is victory for those who would achieve : 

Glory is never gained by those who grieve. 
Less heavy will the burdens seem we bear. 
And Life's immortal crown be doubly fair. 

When everlasting death doth send reprieve. 



DESTINY 

O DESTINY, implacably man's foe! 
The wailing of the winter wind that frets 
Against each city's spires and minarets. 
As conscious of the aching hearts below, 
I would that it could wail thy overthrow. 
There is no day departs, no sun that sets. 
But fills me with innumerable regrets; 
The guerdon of the gifts thou dost bestow. 
Keen is the saber of insatiate Time, 

Cleaving a wide swath through the ranks of years 
That battle on eternity's domain: 
But O, what Power, however vast, sublime. 
Can e'er dethrone thee from amidst thy peers 
Where, Uke a god immortal, thou dost reign ? 

88 



AUTUMN MORNING 

THIS morning, as the virgin dawn 
Arose in splendor, 
I treaded many a dewy lawn 
Of trasses tender. 



ucaucu 111 Ally a u.^ 

Of grasses tender. 



Sought many a quiet fragrant spot 

From men secluded. 
Where I reposed and mused, but not 

In sadness brooded. 

Peace was within me and around. 
Through earth's distillment: 

As if my soul at last had found 
Divine fulfillment. 

The trees above me had embraced 

In pure caressing; 
Their passion did not seem unchaste. 

But rich with blessing. 

I loved the odor of the ground. 
Though rank and sodden; 

As soft as moss the earth I found 
My feet had trodden. 

Red leaves had fallen in each path. 

And gold and yellow; 
But few had felt the season's wrath. 

Whose days were mellow. 



89 



Autumn Green boughs were swaying everywhere. 

Morning And gently sighing; 

The undulations of the air 
To theirs replying. 

What incense rich from every shrine 

The air pervaded; 
Cool sanctuaries made divine 

By what they shaded. 

Such beautiful springing flowers and plants. 

In spirit nameless; 
To whom the birds their wanton chants 

Still caroled shameless. 

Dipping their wings in that sweet dew 

Which lies upon them. 
As if they surely felt and knew 

Their songs had won them. 

Won from them what fruition sweet. 

What bridal token: 
What things no spirit may repeat. 

No lips have spoken. 

With song they consecrated morn; 

Whose light was chrism 
To that new life divinely born 

With God's baptism. 

What recked they of the stricken soul. 

The lips beseeching? 
They were too joyous to condole. 

Too pure for preaching. 



90 



Though not unconscious of that Power Autumn 

Whose benediction Morning 

Giveth in every herb and flower 
Divine conviction. 

O men, men, men! who deem earth's dross 

The god to cherish. 
These never doomed upon the cross 

Their Christ to perish. 

'Tis we who for a pittance sell 

Our birthright glorious. 
Making those fallen fiends of hell 

For once victorious. 

Slowly did I retrace my path 

Into the city; 
My spirit was not filled with wrath. 

But thrilled with pity! 



91 



THINK OF ME 

IN the morning, when the glory of the sunshine 
Purples all the rugged hills, the surgent sea; 
Thrills the verdurous valleys into rapture. 
Think of me. 

In some quiet haunt, some fragrant forest olden. 
Where a river flow^eth onward murmuringly. 
And the leaves of autumn fall both sere and golden. 
Think of me. 

There within the vast cathedral of the ages. 

Where belief in God transcends mortality. 
And our spirit breathes the peace that assuages. 
Think of me. 

Think of me when through the meadows slowly 
wending. 
And the fragrance of the flowers soothe and bless: 
And the hues of sea and sky so brightly blending 
Thrill no less. 

Think of me when silently the evening shadows 

Deepen; and the radiance and the glory of the day 
From the woodland's quiet haunts and cowslipped 
meadows 
Pass away. 

And when Night her stars unveils in all their splendor. 

And the peace of God descends on earth and sea; 
Though apart, yet bound by troths so sweet and 
tender. 
Think of me! 



92 



KINDNESS 



KINDNESS is a simple flower. 
And yet magical in power: 
Trample it beneath your feet. 
Still it seems to smell more sweet. 
Friendship wears it on its brows; 
Love a shrine for it allows; 
Pity, though she ever grieves. 
Seeks life's comfort in its leaves; 
Hope, serenely pure and fair. 
Brings it to the home of Care; 
Charity in all the land 
Walketh with it in her hand. 
Do the lips of sorrow rave ? 
Do the hands of labor slave ? 
Do the weary hearts bewail ? 
Do the loftiest spirits fail ? 
Yet to all it brings a sign 
Of those blessings deemed divine. 
Every leaf is as a seal 
Of the Lord who came to heal. 
Howsoever bleak the ways. 
Howsoever dark the days. 
Kindness sheds its fragrant bloom. 
Like a star dispels the gloom. 
Humblest blossom of the sod. 
Yet it wears the crown of God ! 



93 



THE CONSECRATION 

SUCH inexpressive gladness fills 
My soul: such benison divine 
Mingles my spirit's love with thine. 
That all mortality, its ills. 

Its intense passions, its regret; 
Its grief, its pain, 
I do disdain. 
Or but remember to forget. 

All things that bloom do but reveal 
The gladness that w^ithin me dwells: 
The lilies and the asphodels; 
The daisy with the sun-god's seal; 
The violet, the marigold. 
The dewiest rose 
Love's garden knows. 
Blossom within me, fold on fold. 

And in the matin-song of birds 
I hear the bridal service sung. 
Zephyr repeats it with a tongue 
That syllables inarticulate words. 
The flowers breathe it unto me; 
< The pbcid sky. 

The stars on high. 
Reveal it in their purity. 

All nature robed in perfect white 
Unto my radiant spirit seems. 
Ah, what a benison of dreams 

Come to me in the hush of night. 



94 



As in my chamber lone I read: '^^^ 

But leave the book Consecration 

For one fond look 

Of thy dear blessed face indeed ! 

O come to me, my bride, my wife ! 
Even so do I desire thee now: 
Fulfill the consecrated vow 
That shall unite us one in life. 
Mingle thy spirit with my own: 
With bridal kiss 
Render me bliss. 
Render me bliss, my love alone; my own, 
my own ! 



I CHARGE THEE TO PREPARE 

1 CHARGE thee to prepare for that dark hour 
Which cometh unto all. Most absolute 

In its divine law unto flower and fruit. 
How oft it cometh ere the fruit hath flower. 
Not all man's glory nor his pomp and power 

Can bribe it, for its servitors are mute: 

How silently they cleave, e'en to the root. 
Each tree, and pluck it from its leafy bower. 
Is it with consecration and with prayer. 

Is it with laughter and with mockery. 
That thou await' st it ? Who knows when and where 

It comes, this herald of eternity ? 
Lo, yon king tottering from his gilded chair! 

O beauteous maiden, who hath stricken thee? 



95 



WERE I WORTH THY PRAISE 

DEAR, were I worth thy praise. 
All that I am to thee, 
All that I fain would be. 
All in so many ways; 
Should God not recompense 
(Until death do us part) 
The noble and intense 
Devotion of thy heart? 

Be it as He doth will: 

Though I be rank and stained. 

If what He hath ordained 
I struggle to fulfill, 
Joy yet may crown the deed. 

Exceeding joy on earth; 
Since I confess the need 

Of equaling thy worth. 

Worth worthy ail award; 

Womanhood passing praise; 

The beauty of whose ways 
So beautifully accord. 
Goodness that still expends 

Its perfect joy in grace: 
Could not these make amends 

Though all my life were base ? 

'Tis for myself I plead; 
If I forsake the cross 
Shall mine not be the loss ? 

Say that the trial exceed 



96 



All that soul could resist. Were I Worth 

Shall I then cry 'tis night. Thy Praise 

And the true way is missed. 
When I have seen the light ? 

Love me, dearest, for all 

Which I may yet be worth; 

Whether for grief or mirth. 
Whether I rise or fall. 
Love me! I will repay: 

Even though words are weak. 
Yet there will come a day 

When all my soul can speak. 



PATIENCE 

BE patient, love, for it will not be long 
Ere we again look in each other's eyes. 
And the old love and the old life resume 
Which blend in perfect song. 

My spirit to your spirit still replies. 

Though transient division be their doom. 

Be patient, love, for soon that day must break; 
Its pallid stars will flee before the sun. 
And one by one its shadows will depart. 
And then shall we awake. 

And know the spell which bound us was but one 
Which bound still closer beating heart to heart! 



97 



IN ABSENCE 



YOU came unto me in my dreams 
Last night; how, shall I say? 
So beautiful still the vision seems 
Which came at break of day. 
And whispered softly in my ear: 
** Do you still love me, Laurie dear ? " 

What words I answered, can you guess - 

You who have been a part 
Of every dream of happiness 

That ever thrilled my heart. 
Can you not guess what I replied 
To that fair spirit by my side ? 

And at my words the spirit smiled: 

So beautiful and sweet 
Its features were, that like a child 

I knelt me at its feet; 
And kissed its hands, and did not cease 
Until the spirit whispered, ** Peace ! 

*' Place not your love on earthly things; 

Since this fair form of mine 
Possessing your imaginings. 

Is only as a shrine 
Wherein my true soul may abide: 
But let my spirit be your bride. 

** Then will your love not be in vain; 

And neither space nor time 
Can ever sunder us in twain. 

Nor age succeeding prime; 

98 



But be immortal e'en in death. 
Who all things mortal severeth." 

I wept: such gladness overfilled 
My heart at what I heard. 

Then sunshine with its glory thrilled 
My spirit till it stirred. 

I waked : and O how weak is will — 

I waked, and found me weeping still! 



REMEMBRANCES 

TO-DAY, all sweet recurrences of thought 
Filling my mind, as fragrance fills the flowers. 
Became Love's ministers of grace and brought 

Remembrance of those ever blissful hours. 
Whose sequence in seclusion calm did seem 
Like realizing some enchanted dream. 

Spring, the magician of those days of old. 
Had woven for our couch of pleasures sweet 

Numberless blossoms, blue and white and gold; 
A brooklet brawled beyond our cool retreat. 

Remembrance of what sorrows then could cloy 

Our harborage in such herbage of spring's joy ? 

O love, to-day such memories of the past 

Render again their moiety of bliss. 
Has love not proved us faithful to the last. 

And consecrated every hallowed kiss ? 
Let Death come now, arrayed as Love once came, 
Our hearts are his, like censers filled with flame! 

L.ofC. 

99 



NATURE 



IN Nature nothing so minute 
But Life doth form some part of it; 
Yet though all life seems absolute 
What know we of the heart of it ? 

Amidst creation vast, uncouth 
We stand and subtly prate of it; 

We dream we see the temple Truth 
Though scarcely near the gate of it. 

Presentiments august disturb 

The minds that mould the best of us; 
The fiery thoughts we cannot curb 

Still come and go unguessed of us. 

What is life's purpose ? What its goal ? 

And how shall we attain to it ? 
If there be universal soul. 

We kneel, alas! in vain to it. 

Baffled by what seems infinite. 
And staggered by immensity. 

Where shall we find the star whose light 
Can pierce this mortal density? 

Thus through the aeons man has wrought, 

A god in opportunity; 
The All that still eludes his thought 

Makes death his one immunity ! 



loo 



THE GRAVE 

A LITTLE light among the skies, 
A speck of gray above the hills; 
The boughs that sway and bend and rise 
Make answer to the wild wind's will; 
The myriad leaves seem never still. 

A little shade retired and cool. 

Retired from pilgrims passing near; 

A moss-surrounded drowsy pool 

Collected where the gaunt boughs rear 
Their dank thick foliage year by year. 

A little mound covered with flowers. 
Alone within the forest's maze. 

Alone within its somber bowers; 

Near it a form who kneels and prays 
Forgiveness for other days. 

A wooden cross above the grave; 

** My mother." This was all it said. 
He was a wanderer o'er the wave; 

Returning, he had found her dead; 

And all his joy in life seemed fled. 

And he had placed above that earth. 
Above the grave of her he loved. 

The one who gave his being birth. 

This simple cross. His heart had proved 
Life's deepest loss nor stood unmoved. 



lOI 



The Grave Then to his ship again returned. 

And as he gained his vessel's side 
And saw the deep sea chopped and churned. 
He said, ** Such is our life, — a tide 
Flowing as boundlessly and wide. 

** Each one chained to his destiny; 

Each one * cribbed, cabined, and confined.' 

The noble largess of the sea. 

The mighty affluence of the wind. 
Mocking the limits of the mind. 

** Still buffeted by every storm 

Misfortune's winds may bring along; 

Those vast assailants without form 
That shatter us, however strong; 
Until we cry, ^ O God, how long ! ' 

**Our truth a lie, we dream a while; 
Our toil a death to every nerve: 

The fates pursue us to beguile; 

Born that we may all passions serve. 
Yet with resolves that nought can swerve. 

<* Strong in our thoughts, in flesh how weak; 
The weakness of mortality. 

With mighty impulses to speak 
The magic words of Sesame, 
Whose talisman would set us free. 

** Still resolute, but prone to fail. 
With unseen powers to resist; 

Though fortified with coat of mail. 
They smite us with a lance of mist. 
And we are carried from the list." 

I02 



THE SILENT CITY 

IF the sun had not been sinking slow 
There where the world-ships come and go, 
I had deemed the day was scarcely bom. 
For nature wore the bloom of morn. 

I walked between the flowery mounds; 
I had long since passed the city's bounds; 
Still musing as each grave appeared. 
Yet neither sad at heart nor cheered. 

And as each epitaph I read 
Inscribed above the sacred dead, 
I wondered whether God was just. 
Whose love we dream of in the dust. 

The world is one vast brotherhood: 
And yet how little understood 
The touch that makes the whole world kin. 
Until we come to dwell herein. 

And here forever we abide; 
And here we all are glorified; 
And one by one we still increase 
The joy of this eternal peace. 

Like shards of ore of every sort 
Cast into nature's vast retort. 
So God's mysterious hand may mould 
The baser metals into gold. 



103 



The Silent How shall I verify my trust 

City That we are something more than dust ? 

Strip oiF the bark from every bole. 
Does nature then reveal the soul ? 

Though so majestic in array. 
So transitory is our clay, 
I hesitate in every sense 
To render it my reverence. 

And yet how else shall life reveal 
Its imprint, its diviner seal? 
How otherwise in glory drape 
The spirit in its earthly shape ? 

Though even the rarest ether mars 
The light refracted from the stars. 
And with inimical things we cope. 
Yet let us seek the grander hope : 

Not in the tomb or lofty pile. 
With marble sculptured peristyle. 
Nor underneath the cypress' shade; 
Nor by the weeping willows laid : 

But in the still small voice that speaks 
The promise which our spirit seeks: 
Whose might shall lift tjiese granite lids. 
And disentomb the pyramids! 



104 



HAPPY DAYS 



IN meadows deep with clover. 
In groves of beech and pine. 
To live those glad days over. 

Ah, love, what joys were mine ! 
What joy to idly follow 

The alder-shaded stream; 
To watch the soaring swallow. 
And dream this life a dream. 

Once more to live and linger 

Beneath the harvest moon; 
Or list that joyous singer 

That thrills the fields of June: 
Or watch the poppies growing 

Among the tasseled corn; 
Or hear the zephyrs blowing 

Reveille to the morn ! 

We ' d garland ferns and flowers. 

We 'd mingle branch and spray: 
But who can wreathe the hours 

Of happy yesterday ? 
In other paths and places 

The yearning soul must seek 
Those passionate embraces 

That left our spirits meek. 

Ah, love, the old life passes! 

What new life blooms amain ? 
Amidst what dewy grasses 

What fields of ripened grain ? 



105 



Happy Days What nook where Summer slumbers 

Or Autumn leaves lie dead ? 
Whose boughs no Spring encumbers 
With blossoms overhead. 

What songs again shall thrill us ? 

What star of dav^n or night 
Shall evermore fulfill us 

Those dreams of rich delight ? 
What chiming bells aw^aken 

Our souls at break of dav ? 
What paths have we forsaken ? 

Far, far, far, far away! 

Ah, days that will return not. 

In joy together spent; 
Our souls at best should yearn not 

For such divine content: 
For fear one thought of sorrow 

Should come to mar our troth. 
And life no more could borrow 

A cup of bliss for both. 

Sweet were those dreams we cherished. 

Whose fragrance we exhale: 
We loved them ere they perished. 

Ere youth seemed but a tale. 
Now though the way grows darkened 

And all the paths are dim. 
We too have sung and harkened 

Our soul's responsive hymn. 



1 06 



We gladly wove and wore it, — Happy Days 

Our wreath of love divine: 
And gladly kneeled before it, — 

Love's high marmoreal shrine: 
And placing on its altar 

Our sacrifice of tears, 
O love, why should we falter. 

Since God has blessed the years! 



TWOFOLD THE GIFT 

TWOFOLD the gift thou hast on me conferred; 
First the sweet gift of love. 
All other gifts above. 
Making my heart more joyful than a bird. 

Then the pure gift of faith, 

Which has dispelled the wraith 
Of fear; and can dispel 

The phantom of despair: 
Binding with fragrant wreaths of asphodel 

The furrowed brow of Care. 
And these two gifts have brought me happiness: 

And yet not less, dear love, not less 

Must I express 

Due thanks to God, who thus could bless 
My heart by making mine 
A part of thine, 
Minghng my earthly love with your divine. 

Therefore, beloved God, my prayers receive: 
All my appointed days to Thee I leave. 
With Thine own saint to guide, how can life weave 
Those meshes to ensnare me past reprieve? 

107 



NEMESIS 

WHEN I my soul in glory would array, 
I hear an inner voice that bids me wait; 
An inner voice that speaks to me like fate 
And tells me that I am alone of clay. 
Aye, even the spirit reverent to-day. 
And unto vastest powers consecrate. 
It doth debase to such a mortal state 
As subject unto visible decay. 
And I, defiant of the scorn of time. 
Enduring everlasting discontent. 

Though broken in my spirit like a reed. 
Listen, as if the thunder rolled sublime 
Over the vast and infinite firmament. 

And wonder if it be God's voice indeed! 

FORTITUDE 

^< T WILL not wear my heart upon my sleeve 
1 For daws to peck at." So within myself. 
Against the inhumanity of pelf. 
Loves that betray and friendships that deceive. 
In fortitude incasual not content. 
Yet obstinate in solitary life. 
It holds supreme avoidance of all strife 
That brings the soul perforce impediment. 
^^ Peace," saith the prelate, ^* comes to those who 
trust." 
* * Have faith, ' ' Decorum whispers : ^ ' Patience, ' ' 
Pride. 
I tread on these as I would tread on dust. 
The dust to which myself in all belong; 
Till unremembered of the lips that bide 
My passionate devotion unto Song. 
io8 



THE SOCIALIST 



IN or out of season 
I must sing my song: 
Have I not a reason 

In this world of wrong ? 
Among men benighted, 

ToiHng and oppressed ? 
'Till their wrongs are righted 
I must do my best. 

Preach me not of error. 

Point me not the way; 
Night can have no terror 

Where my eyes see day. 
Scorn me or deride me. 

In my inmost soul 
There 's a faith to guide me 

Steadfast as the pole. 

While I hear the wailing 

Of the wronged and weak 
Sadly unavailing 

Are the words you speak: 
Where there is oppression 

Manhood must resist; 
Therefore this confession — 

I 'm a Socialist! 

Pledged to help my brothers 
In their bitter strife; 

Fathers, sisters, mothers. 
All that live their life; 



109 



The Socialist , All of earth's downtrodden 

Poorly clothed and fed; 
For the earth is sodden 

With the tears they 've shed. 

Pledged to deeds of duty 

Glorious to achieve. 
Not to dreams of beauty 

Which I may conceive. 
Let us strive forever, 

O how great the need! 
Only through endeavor 

Can our cause succeed. 

Every back we lighten 

Of its burdens sore, 
Every home we brighten 

Helps us more and more: 
O the millions living. 

Toiling in the night! 
O the task of giving 

To such millions light! 

They require assurance 

Of such days beyond; 
They inspire endurance. 

For their hearts respond. 
Overhead the thunder. 

Underneath the dark — 
Lo, the lightning wonder, 

God has struck a spark! 



no 



PROTHALAMIUMS 

WHEN rapt in that communion sweet 
Which bindeth parted hearts in one. 
My spirit speedeth thine to meet. 
As rivers unto rivers run: 

As melodies diverse unite. 

When music issueth from the strings 
Of some rare harp that gave delight 

In other days to queens and kings: 

When rapt in such a bliss, I say. 
Whereof no mortal may discourse. 

But rather reverently pray 

Through overflowing joy perforce: 

I know not if I felt the less. 

Or know not if I feel the more 

The benison of the blessedness 

Now mine, although not mine before. 

For certes seem the gates unbarred. 
The golden gates of Paradise; 

Where sinless spirits must discard 
The mortal veil before their eyes. 

And through the portals do I see 
The pure existence of delight. 

The future life's felicity 

Which shall our wedded souls unite. 



II 



Prothalamiums Can lips intelligently speak 

That ope in so divine an air ? 
Nay, rather is the spirit meek. 
Kneeling in adoration there. 

What can communicated bliss 
Impart besides I may not know. 

When with a consecrated kiss 

Thy lips the bridal-troth bestow ? 

For this I gladly feel and see — 
No desolation can divide 

The bliss that gives thy soul to me 
In rendering thee mine, my bride! 



THE BEATEN PATH 

GO with me, dear, the beaten path. 
With voice to soothe and smiles to bless; 
Reaping life's glorious aftermath 
In many days of happiness. 

Go with me with thy heart of gold. 
Whose holy worth is worth indeed: 

Whose nobler nature shall unfold 
The richer sympathy I need. 

Go with me with desire to know. 
Go with me with the soul to seek 

Those vaster fields whose flowers grow 
A deeper wisdom than we speak! 



112 



Go with me with the heart of hope. The Beaten 

The smile of grace, the soul of truth ; Path 

That I may climb the higher slope 
Beyond the fallow fields of youth. 

Go with me as a faith to teach. 

Go with me as a light to guide; 
'Till love commutual blent in each 

Will make existence glorified. 

O troth that I desire to seal ! 

O joy I ever yearn to know ! 
Could reverent love but now reveal 

What perfect faith shall then bestow ! 

O womanly heart I claim as mine. 

Blent with the music of the lyre ; 
That passionately makes divine 

My dreams of passion and desire ! 

Make glad these arms; these lips, these eyes. 

Through perfect rapture thrilling both : 
Thy bosom be my paradise. 

My richest blessedness thy troth ! 



113 



THE NEW LIFE 

DEAR wife, the mother of my child. 
Whose life with mine so sweetly bound 
Has pacified my spirit wild. 

And made my heart a holy ground. 

May He in whose omniscient hands 
Are all the woven threads of life. 

Still sanctify those sacred bands 

That make thee mother now and wife. 

God bless thee ! Reverence seems low 
That still would kneel before thy feet : 

For more than this would love bestow. 
Since Love is child of God, my sweet. 

And Love gives faith. Nearer belief 
I seem to grow, when I behold 

God's gift as balsam to our grief. 
Though born of sufferings manifold. 

Dear wife, dear wife, God's blessings rest 
Upon that noble heart of thine ! 

Whose mercies are so manifest. 

Since I can now still call thee mine. 

Still kiss those lips so dear to me; 

Still see those eyes, whose looks avow 
That all thy spirit womanly 

Is mine in purest wedlock now. 



H 



Still hear thee speak: still hear thee say The Nem 

*<I love thee," with a voice w^hich long Life 

Has been my blessing night and day. 
And sung itself in all my song. 

Dear wife, the mother of my child. 

On barren soil thy love was cast : 
But thou wast patient, thou wast mild. 

And lo, one flower has bloomed at last ! 

Shall not its beauty then perfume 

The grateful, gladdened heart of both ? 
Since God has made this blossom bloom 

To consecrate our wedded troth ! 



THE MORGUE 

WITHIN this mortal crypt, no more morose. 
Lie wonderfully hidden, unrevealed. 
Life's meaning and its mystery. How sealed 
These lips, how everlasting this repose! 
What miseries, what agonies, who knows ? 
Or stirring trumpet-tones of triumph pealed 
Up to the stars, when death no more concealed 
The horror of its fearful pangs and throes ? 
Pilgrims still follow pilgrims to the shrine 
Of Mecca, till they number many hosts, 
Allured by the idolatries of faith; 
But to this ghastly form, once deemed divine. 
Congregate none, save still more silent ghosts. 
And haggard specters from the land of death ! 



115 



MOMENTS 



EACH moment is a grain of sand 
Which by Time's ebbing sea 
Is swiftly swept away fi-om land 
Into eternity. 

What priceless moments have we lost 

Upon life's rocky shore: 
Yet little reckon we the cost 

Of all that we deplore. 

And as we weep and vainly gaze 

For all those moments sweet. 
Perchance some golden moment stays 

Unheeded at our feet. 

We do not bow to crave of Time 

A respite from our fate. 
Poor mortals who have failed to climb 

The pathways of the great. 

Why should we fear to stoop from pride ? 

To fall that we may rise ? 
Though swayed the tree from side to side. 

Still points it to the skies. 

If life were only for to-day 

Then could we understand 
How God Himself might ca§t away 

This world — this grain of sand ! 



ii6 



SONNETS 

IN those old days, whilst yet we were apart; 
Sundered, although united; twain, though one; 
Ere yet the current of our life had run 
Into each other, blending heart with heart; 
Dear love, (let me confess it,) unto Art 
Was I all dedicate. Though I had won 
No guerdon yet from song, having but spun 
A few fine webs, too fragile from the start. 
These, dear, your love destroyed: or, let me say,, 
Transmuted each thin thread till all became 
Like shining links of steel to bind more firm 
My spirit unto song. O glorious day ! 
'Twas ever thus, my own, forever came 
The winged butterfly fi-om out the worm. 

Shall I repent then, dear ? Thus forced to lose 
A few dim dreams that seemed to intertwine 
Earth's glory with a glory more divine; 

So much their splendor did my soul transfuse. 

I had my choice before me: did I choose 

Wrongly, beloved ? Nay, since thou art mine. 
My song has found herself a holier shrine, 

A perfect sanctuary for the Muse. 

All, all thou art to me; and dost inspire 

More than those visions known in other days. 

And thou hast brought me peace to all desire. 
And rich is my reward: since I have found 
That I am happier, dear one, when crowned 
Bythy sweet love than by the whole world's praise. 



117 



Sonnets Dear, when my simple verses you peruse. 

Haply, some fancy here and there may please; 

If so, forgive the poorer lines for these. 
Alas! if life v^ere mine again to choose, 
I w:ould not dedicate it to the Muse, 

To follow after blind Maeonides; 

But rather sink it in profoundest seas. 
Where all adventured were but all to lose. 
But now, too late regret: or right or wrong 

My task in life is chosen. And perforce 
I dedicate my spirit unto song; 

Guiding my life's frail bark by such a course. 
But O how lone the path, the way how long! 

And if I fail, how bitter the remorse! 

Yea, pathless seems the way, where none may meet 
Whereon the poet fareth. Ever far 
Gleam those vast heights where all his glories are. 

He treads a path untrod by other feet. 

Yet does the bitter mingle with the sweet. 
And all the splendor of his visions mar: 
And dark clouds hide his spirit's radiant star. 

And strange weird voices lure him with deceit. 

Then, if when thus deluded, led astray. 
He seek some form divine for recompense. 
And render to one woman the intense. 

Fierce passions of his heart; who shall gainsay 
The poet such delight ? Whose loftiest sense 

Is thrilled with such sweet yearnings every day! 



ii8 



THE INVETERATE YEARS 

BELOVED, though the inveterate years make haste 
To sunder, through inquietude of heart. 
From placid dreams immutable of Art, 
My saddened youth; and make the garden waste 
Where grew all flowers beautiful and chaste. 
Since there I hoped serenely to depart 
A hermit from life's overcrowded mart, 
Yet hath one joy those dreams of old replaced : 
This, that the tempest though it beat, though blow 
All mighty winds, though all around be dark. 
And not a star illumine seas or skies, 
I shall not fear on fearful ways to go. 

Guided by that which guides my wandering bark. 
The love within thy heart and in thine eyes! 



THY WOMANHOOD 

WHEN I thy radiant womanhood perceive, 
Unconscious of the beauty glorified 

Which in thy perfect spirit doth abide, 
I in my supplications crave reprieve 
Of death for thee. So life might ever leave 

Thy form unto its beauteous soul allied: 

But knowing by decree my dream denied. 
In silent meditation do I grieve. 
Not therefore do I deem the mould divine. 

The vesture of the spirit wastes away; 

Yea, momently decayeth, being clay; 
Consuming as the incense on a shrine. 
But such surpassing womanhood as thine 

Like some immortal marble form should stay! 

119 



MY FIRST ILLNESS 

AS here I lie upon my couch of pain. 
This the first visitation in my life 

Of serious illness, how the world's vast strife. 
The fearfulness of which I oft complain. 
Recedes into some infinite inane; 

Whilst holier thoughts within my mind are rife: 

And with thee here beside me, gentle wife. 
Why should I not recover health again ? 
Beloved, what a lesson dost thou teach 

Of meek humility and patience strong ! — 
Dear God, one grace I crave, one boon beseech; 

That in my earnest ministry of song. 
The fragrance and the flowers of my speech. 

Though gifts of Thine, may unto her belong. 



YEARNINGS 

WOULD thou wert with me wandering in a field; 
Though the keen winter wind on every wold 

Should smite each living thing with bitter cold. 
And not one pale primrose the woods should yield. 
Thy love would be before me as a shield, 

A panoply around me, fold on fold; 

A light above me; as the aureoled 
Sun when at dawn his glory is revealed. 
O, I am weary of the rush and roar. 

The tumult and the traffic of the street; 

Of gold men make their god, but lo, its feet 
Are clay. What worth here hath a poet's lore ? 

And art is long, and life, alas! will fleet. 
And Charon waits impatient on the shore. 



1 20 



EASTER -DAY 

' T^IS Easter - day, and like some heavenly dove 
1 From whose white wings can nought but 
blessings fall. 
So Hope and Peace to-day, and perfect Love, 
Should spread their glorious banners over all ! 

So may He bless our babe, in whose dear name 
We christen her to-day; that she may be 

Perfect in womanhood, and so proclaim 
His perfect love. His pure divinity. 



The passage of the years, how swift. 
Their consummation, O how brief! 

Whatever they may bring as gift. 

One gift they ever bring us — Grief. 

So have they sped on swiftest wings 
Since first we met that happy day: 

More sadly now the poet sings. 

Who sees youth's visions fade away. 

And less the Muses do inspire 

His soul to sing prophetic truth: 
For on his lips their sacred fire 

Seems perished with his perished youth. 

Life's many burdens and their care. 
Misdeeds committed and remorse. 

Have made the world not half so fair 
As when youth ran his joyous course. 

Such brooding thoughts were mine. When, lo. 
Remembrance showed what hopes were left. 

121 



Easter-Day These lilies with their cups of snow 

Are not of loveliness bereft. 

Five years ago, my love, this morn, 
I sang what such could symbolize: 

The Christ from earth to heaven upborne 
The Resurrection and uprise. 

As I sang then so sing I still — 
The Love whose everlasting grace 
. Is witness of His sovereign Will 

Can bless whatever hearts embrace. 

And make more holy and divine 
Whatever hearts may at the gate 

Of Pardon plead. At love's pure shrine 
All sins become regenerate. 

And I, an alien in a land 

I love, since all I love is here. 

Regenerated do I stand 

Before that shrine so pure and dear. 

Thy love — the love that binds us both: 
And is so infinitely beyond 

All speech of mine, that, as a troth. 
These lilies shall for me respond. 

So these accept from me. The heart 
That renders doth as well receive: 

Together, though the years depart. 

Together still, why should we grieve ? 

Hold high aloft the torch of life. 
Clearly and purely let it burn; 

And then the stars themselves, dear wife. 
An answering signal will return. 



122 



BEHIND THE VEIL 

BRING what the future may. 
It cannot so assail 
But that some blessed day 
Our spirits will not fail 
Each other to embrace fbrevermore. 

Behind the veil, dear love, behind the veil! 

Now is but stir and stress. 

Then will be joy and peace; 
Now much unhappiness. 

Then love that will not cease. 
But through the grace of God forevermore 

Immortal in its blessedness increase. 

Shall we not then await 

Whatever life may bring ? 
Dreams through the ivory gate. 

With all their flattering. 
Cannot allure us from the gate of horn. 

Whence all true dreams and noble thoughts 
take wing. 

So when in life we part 

Our spirits will not fail. 
But from our inmost heart 

Cry unto Death, ^^ All hail!" 
Knowing we shall be one forevermore. 

Behind the veil, dear heart, behind the veil! 



123 



HUMILITY 

THY glory who shall dare exalt, 
O gracious God who art divine ? 
A sinner full of shame and fault, 
I only kneel me at Thy shrine. 
I only pray 

For truth and hght. 
Although my day 
Be turned to night. 

Thy goodness is my only hope; 
Let my salvation be Thy care. 
In darkness doth my spirit grope. 
And yet I do not feel despair. 
I only ask, 

I only crave 
To do my task 
Beyond the grave. 

Of all Thy children deem me less. 

Of all life's sinners deem me more; 
Fill Thou my cup with bitterness 
Until it shall be running o'er. 
My soul shall bear 

Without complaint. 

And seek through prayer 

To cleanse its taint. 

For still will I repose in Thee 

My faith, my living hope and trust; 

Until my spirit shall be free 
From its frail chrysalis of dust. 



124 



As Thou didst give. Humility 

So take away. 
Let me not live 

Hence from to-day. 



SLUMBER 



SWEET repose but cometh to a spirit 
When it sleeps. 
If no phantom form of Sorrov^ near it 
Vigil keeps. 

Then the eyes with unseen balm are laden. 

And we rest 
Like a rose upon the bosom of a maiden 

Softly pressed. 

Soothed to sleep with purest of caresses 

Do we seem; 
As a child who all its soul expresses 

In a dream. 

Blissful is the deep repose thus taken 

In the night. 
For at morn our souls will reawaken 

With delight. 



125 



MARK ANTONY 

I AM dying, Egypt, dying; 
I have fought on many a field. 
But the foe there 's no defying 

Conquers me and I must yield. 
Let men know I have departed. 

Not ignoble in defeat. 
But a Roman, Roman-hearted, 
Though my conquest is complete. 

I am dying, Egypt, dying; ^ 

Death is at my bearded lips. 
With the blood around me lying. 

Morbid balm in crimson drips. 
All my triumphs, all my glory. 

All the greatness fame conferred. 
All the folly of my story. 

Let them be with me interred. 

I ani dying, Egypt, dying. 
Like the sunset on the wave; 

To thy lips my lips replying 

Breathe the accents of the grave. 

my Queen, my Egypt, Venus! 
Did I barter for a kiss 

All the world we shared between us 
To relinquish it like this ? 

1 am dying, Egypt, dying; 

Hold me fast in beauty's snare: 
Ah, such kisses were worth buying 
When the world was mine to share. 



126 



I renounced all kingly splendors, Mark 

Principalities for thee; Antony 

But this kiss thy soul surrenders 
Pays for all that yet may be! 



ADMONITIONS 



BLIND not the soul of thy youth, 
God is not blind; 
Fill thou thy spirit with ruth. 
With wisdom thy mind. 

Yield not to woman's desire, 

God will uphold: 
Taint not with passions of mire 

Love's garments of gold. 

Seek not life's shrine to profane, 

God will discern: 
Pleasure is kindred to pain. 

This thou must learn. 

Think not that God will not hear. 

Pray to Him still: 
His glory. His presence is near. 

If thy soul only will. 



127 



THE BARK OF DEATH 

THERE is a bark upon that sea 
Which men have named Eternity 
Whose pilot is the angel Death! 
No wandering winds, no quickening breath 
Hath ever stirred this sable deep: 
' T would seem in an eternal sleep 
But for the motion of each wave. 
Whose slow, vast surges, heaving, lave 
The sands upon that silent shore 
Whose margin is the Evermore. 
And once, with jeweled crown of flame, 
A winged and glorious seraph. came 
To Death, the helmsman of this bark 
That voyages 'twixt dawn and dark. 
And whispered to him, sweet and low, 
**Our mighty Father bids thee go. 
' From henceforth am I bidden straight 
To steer this vessel consecrate: 
Lo, I am Life! and God divine 
Has willed thy station should be mine." 
Then Death wailed bitterly, and said, 
*^ Have I this bark not piloted 
From the creation till to-day. 
Made passive to His mighty sway ? 
Ye in His smile of glory bask. 
But I in darkness do my task. 
O let me hold my ancient place 
If I have fallen not from grace." 
God heard, and sanctified his claim. 
But crowned him with Life's crown of flame! 
Thus Death still pilots evermore 
Life's spirits to that other shore. 

128 



WORMWOOD 

HAS the love we have w^rought been made sweeter ? 
Have the dreams we have dreamt been enjoyed? 
Is our life through such passion completer ? 

Are our lips still unsated, uncloyed ? 
The hopes which we nurtured have perished. 

The garlands we wreathed have died; 
The beautiful tokens we cherished 
Are torn from our souls and denied. 

One sigh for the glory departed; 

One tear for the bliss yet to be. 
The flowers in my path which upstarted. 

In vain were they gathered by me. 
I breathed their fragrance so holy. 

From passionate ardor made sweet; 
And then when they withered as slov/ly, 

I trod them with pain under feet. 

The vow of our troth I surrender ; 

Its love I retain as my own: 
So pure and so sweet and so tender, 

'T is what I shall never disown. 
'Tis sacred to me, though unworthy 

I proved to the passion of thine: 
For I of the earth am too earthy. 

And thou in thy love too divine. 

Too divine to be mated and mingled 

With one all whose heart is as fire; 
Whom fate from the many has singled 

To live as a slave to desire. 



129 



Wormwood As one to be sadly ungrateful 

To the bliss and the truth of love's troth; 
Forsworn to the vows of the faithful. 
And bringing but teen to the both. 

Shall I plead for my youth to be pardoned ? 

O plea for a shame unrepined! 
Shall I plead that my heart has been hardened 

By griefs which are quickly divined ? 
What plea shall I make when I linger 

Amidst the old fields of decay; 
And within the sad soul of the singer 

Fierce passions consume it away ? 

What plea shall I make when the altar 

Of holy aiFection is stained ? 
The lips that were pleading would falter 

To speak of the joys I disdained. 
So weak in its passing devotion. 

So strong in its soul of distrust. 
Youth shatters love's cup, and its potion 

Becomes but a dream of the dust. 

For duty is fallen and blighted. 

And faith is as Christ on the cross; 
Though spirit with spirit united. 

Could Love now redeem every loss ? 
For fiercely the Seasons commingle 

The draught they make bitter with tears; 
In spirit still bound as if single. 

Could Love now redeem us the years ? 



130 



One star in my dream keeps its luster; Wormwood 

One gem in my soul keeps its price: 
And Hope whispers still, ^* Thou canst trust her. 

Her pure love shall more than suffice; 
Shall suffice till united and blended 

The fruits of love's harvest you reap." 
But I know that my dream has been ended. 

And I end it arising from sleep! 



THE MORNING STAR 



I THRILL with joy to view afar 
The pale resplendent morning star: 
Radiant within the pearl-gray skies 
Before the burning sun arise. 
As each wan flower is glistening,. 
As early birds begin to sing. 
It seems some vestal pure and fair 
Within God's vast cathedral there. 

It is the star in all the host 
Of stars that I still love the most; 
The star of hope, the star of love. 
Who in those regions pure above. 
Seems in its passionless repose 
Like to a white and virgin rose 
Placed by a seraph on that shrine 
Whose holy incense blends with mine. 



^31 



THE SUNSET 

MY soul springs upward from its earthly pall. 
And like a singing skylark seems to rise: 
Is thine this blessing of my spirit's thrall, 

sunset! glorifying all the skies ? 

Whose clouds like flakes of crimson seem to fall. 
Then roll upon each other, billow -wise ? 

First they assumed the hue of molten gold. 

With rifts of blue between, where the low sun 

Sped not his shafts. Then purple did enfold 
The tremulous clouds of evening, one by one. 

And then they seemed like angels aureoled 

With sapphire crowns too bright to look upon. 

There are no woods before me rich with green. 
But yon aurorean clouds have changed their form 

And seem to be some forest's rich desmene; 
But filled with glowing tints and colors warm 

Of the deep sunset, making the serene 

Blue azure glow as lurid as a battle's storm. 

No soft winds breathe around me but the hum 
Of city toil and care. There is no stream 

That from some mountain-nurtured lake doth come 
To flow before me murmuring with its gleam: 

But gazing at that sight I drink therefrom 
The rapture of some poet's glorious dream. 

I grew not up with nature; in my youth 

1 knew no forest haunts, no woodland wild. 



132 



4 



Where I could pass life's blissful days of truth: The Sunset 

No such sweet joys my earHer years beguiled. 
Bringing the comfort of so rich a ruth. 

And tempering my soul with visions of the child. 

Ah, I had dwelt far happier with the birds; 

Worshiping beautiful Spring when first she came. 
With the sweet music of her joyous words 

Calling each dewy blossom by its name; 
And all the uplands pasturing the herds. 

And all the forests filled as if with flame. 

Yet am, I blessed by such a splendid sight; 
O vision! such as yet no poet knew! 

bright apocalypse in infinite 

Vast realms of heaven! to my mortal view 
Appearing myriad cherubim of light 

Scattering splendors forth Hke unto dew! 

But lulled to soft repose the beauteous sky 

Is growing darker. Slowly sinks the sun. 
The mighty mage of all those realms on high: 

No longer do my eyes his glory shun. 

1 hear Night trail her silken vestments by; 

Some stars as messengers before her run. 

Are these the symbols of mortality ? 

Is such a glory but a beauteous dream ? 
And everything most beautiful we see 

A sunset passed away, which nothing can redeem ? 
O vastness which surrounds us! what are we. 

Who wail upon the margin of the stream ? 



f33 



The Sunset All cadences, all harmonies proclaim 

Some grand divine result of law still unrevealed; 
Infinitude itself is but a name; 

The stars commingle gloriously to yield 
To man the awful mystery of the same. 

Like tones from some eternal organ pealed! 

O men could be archangels if they would ! 

Since as illimitable as yonder space 
Is the vast scope our spirit hath for good; 

And God Himself abides in every place. 
Then let all men be one in Brotherhood, 

Whatever their diversity of race. 



IMMORTALITY 

DO we discard this chrysalis of clay 
To plume with pinions swift the spirit warm ? 
''The instrument of instruments, the form 
Of forms ' ' then growing visible to-day ? 
MilHons have lived and died, and where are they ? 
The unsunned jewel recks not of the storm; 
The caterpillar cares not for the worm: 
Can Hfe immortal mitigate decay ? 
'' O undiscovered country from whose bourn 
No traveler returns," no lips respond. 
No light reveals the mystery evermore! 
We stand upon the threshold of what morn ? 
We peer into what regions vast beyond ? 
Listen to murmurs from what other shore ? 



134 



THE DREAMER 

SHE spent her days in poring o'er romances 
Of olden times, of golden-armored knights. 
Of many a tournament on many a field; 
Until the clearness of her virgin glances 
Beneath her drooping eyelids did repine. 
And she became as wan as acolytes 
Within some ancient house of prayer concealed. 
And yet more wonderfully pure and fair 
Than some madonna with her aureoled hair. 
But when her orbs unclosed themselves to mine. 
Then did their tenderness, their ardent looks 
For some bold hero which her treasured books 
Had imaged to her heart show quickly forth. 
To fade like pallid sunsets in the north. 

Where were those smiles which once were wont to 

bless ? 
The glancing sunshine of her beauteous face ? 
The mellow merriment, the joyous stress 
Of all her sweet emotions ? Where the grace 
And the lithe movements of her willowy form ? 
O let the lily bloom, she knows no sin: 
For her no kisses nor caresses warm. 
For all is snowy chastity within. 
No more the rosy tints upon her cheeks 
Will mock the budding rose. No more her brows 
Will know Love's purple dawn upon their peaks. 
When gentle lovers in some forest maze 
Become enchanted underneath the boughs. 
Or noble knights afield win ladies' praise. 



135 



The Dreamer To sleep were well, if death were but a sleep. 
Her countenance forever seemed to say. 
She seemed some ivory casket made to keep 
A passion passionless for aye and aye. 
To die for love would be a honeyed end 
Of all existence — this was still her thought. 
She yearned for one in whom she could discern 
Knightly demeanor with such beauty blend 
As she in her pure phantasy had wrought. 
Dimmer and dimmer did her spirit burn; 
The snowflakes softly fell on branch and spray,. 
And she became more wan and more forlorn: 
Until her spirit passed upon a day. 
When the first robin sang upon the thorn. 

The gods were gentle to her that she died. 
Ere bitter truth could lacerate her heart: 
Ere that from visions pale so dreamy-eyed 
By ruthless Sorrow she was forced to part. 
And though existence was for her a trancoy 
What lips can mock its littleness and worth ? 
Forever did she see the retinue 
Of noble knights that made her soul's romance 
A glittering pageant of this common earth. 
Forever passed before her mortal view 
Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinever, love-bound. 
And all the wonder of the Table Round. 
For these she pined as sunflower for the sun: 
So lived, so died she when her dream was done. 



i3<^ 



MISANTHROPOS 

THERE are moments of sorrow we cannot forget; 
O where can we borrow a balm for regret ? 
There are feelings of sadness that lead to despair; 
Life's sunshine is gladness, its shadow is Care. 

There are tears for those sleeping the sleep of the 

grave; 
What casket is keeping the deeds of the brave ? 
There are voids in each bosom wherever you stray. 
The loveliest blossom must wither some day. 

There are sighs from the weary and moans from the 

bold; 
For life still is dreary whatever be told. 
And when two are parted the love that remains 
Lives on broken-hearted, a spirit in chains. 

There are hopes full of burdens that tell of a past 

No joy with its guerdons can banish at last; 

Deep thoughts with sad meaning, like sounds in a 

shell. 
And white bosoms screening the scarlet of hell! 

There are goals for the winning and crowns for the 

same. 
But more dream of sinning than striving for fame; 
Life's joys are so fleeting we clasp them in vain. 
The years keep repeating their legend of pain. 

There are those wandering blindly life's pathways 

along; 
There are those deemed unkindly, unkindly through 

wrong. 

137 



Misanthropos Remembrance would cherish its joys to the last. 
But the flowers that perish are those of the past. 

Such is fate of the sternest since being began. 
To dust thou returnest was spoken of man; 
The stars in his heaven gleam hopefully bright. 
But the soul and its leaven are hidden from sight. 

And brooding and mourning we live to the last. 
Our hearts full of scorning midst nature so vast: 
We see that the ages wear death on their brow. 
We know that life's pages are turned from us now. 

Can daylight returning from vastness so dark 
Become the flame burning within the shrined ark ? 
Can souls that surrender their visions divine 
Be dazed by the splendor that comes from its shrine ? 

No glory is left us, no wonders in stone; 
Our gods are bereft us, they lie overthrown: 
The years are effacing the poems we wrote. 
And man seems disgracing his laurels remote. 

What is left by the leaving of life on this earth ? 
The spirit receiving surrenders its birth. 
To death we are mated, with death disappear; 
Thus, briefly related, 'tis all written here! 



138 



I CHERISH THEE 

I CHERISH thee with thoughts too pure 
To think that flattery could gain 
What simple faith cannot procure 
Nor true fidelity obtain. 

For all thy womanhood and worth. 
Its perfect tenderness and truth. 

Are beautiful enough on earth 

Without the fleeting grace of youth. 

And these through all the wretchedness 
The years may bring for soul to dree. 

Shall never fill my life the less. 
But still be all in all to me. 



139 



FAILURE OR SUCCESS? 

O WONDERFUL myth of Apollo the god, who 
once tended Admetus' sheep! 
The words of the wise becoming fulfilled, ere we soar 

we must learn to creep. 
Will the world forever reward success ? Must failure 

forever seem 
A cry in the night from some far height that scarcely 
disturbs our dream ? 

Who blazoned the many trails whereon the multitude 

now may tread ? 
How many broad highways of life were once narrow 

paths to the dead ? 
O better the agony of defeat, and to fail in a glorious 

cause. 
Than that for the sake of some petty success the world 

in its progress should pause. 

Not always the laureled brow of one who sits in the 

temple of Fame; 
Not always the luster, as of the sun, that haloes a 

splendid name. 
Can tell of the bitter battle of life: nor imperishably 

express 
The worth of the diamond Koh-i-noor that flames in 

the crown of Success! 



140 



THE VISIONS OF KING SOLOMON 

THE visions of King Solomon the Wise: 
For many nights the king had seen arise 
A brilliant star above him in the skies. 

Brilliant, yet filling all his soul with dread. 
So multicolored were the rays it shed 
Through his vast palace casements overhead. 

And wonder in his people thence arose. 
And fear, which like a poisonous weed still grows, 
Till Faith's hand blights it, saying, «* God, He 
knows." 

And many gathered in highways to speak. 
Many incredulous and many meek, 
Wond'ring what malison the star would wreak. 

While on the king's broad brow this weight of care 
Sat like the dusky shadow of Despair; 
And clammy dew was in his silvered hair 

When from his pillared portico at night 
He saw the flaming star appear in sight. 
So fearfully and wonderfully bright. 

One night when dewy slumber, that sweet rose. 
Denied him the rich balm of deep repose. 
For restless is the sleep a ruler knows. 

He threw a gorgeous mantle, soft as down. 
Around his shoulders, and, devoid of crown. 
Paced slow his royal chamber of renown. 



141 



The Visions A massive chain of jewels on his breast 
of King Betrayed with every step the strange unrest 
Solomon Which in his heart abode, a vulture guest. 

And ever as he walked his thoughts to speech 
Flowed, as the billows flowing on a beach. 
That murmur mystic music each to each. 

The cressets pendent in that spacious hall 
Revealed distinctly every cedared wall. 
Or the vast ceiling. overarching all. 

Its massy columns overlaid with gold 
Huge carven beams of cedar did uphold. 
Wrought with great toil and cunning manifold. 

Here slowly pacing up and down he mused: 

** How came these thoughts of God thus interfused 

With man's great spirit, whether blessed or bruised? 

* * Or Gods, for many worship more than one ? 
My father David prophesied the Son; 
Perchance the progeny hath but begun. 

*^ Nay, it is written, * In the beginning made 
God heaven and earth.' And shall I be afraid 
To reap the profit when the price was paid ? 

*^ Yet how define His essence ? Shall it be 
As of some Absolute Reality? 
Or as an infinite, ideal Me ? 



142 



'* O that this mystery which life surrounds. The Visions 

Its miracle of colors and of sounds, of King 

Would pass beyond its everlasting bounds ! Solomon 

** Or its eternal law could be repealed. 
And in a multitude of forms concealed 
Become but founts divine of love revealed. 

*' Do everlasting ministers then brood 
In infinite love or rapt beatitude 
Over our lives of evil and of good ? 

** Then what seem intuitions of the will 
Were moulded by a vaster Power still. 
And sequent law would love divine fulfill. 

** Ah, but such love we only may suppose; 

Whereas law operates in all that grows. 

Or moves, or breathes, or sentient being knows. 

'* Yet how can ever man unweave the coil 

Of the immutable elements that foil 

The life he fain would live upon the soil ? 

** Is it by sacrifice of myrrh and balm. 
By importunity of prayer and psalm. 
That God is stirred in His eternal calm ? 

** This roll papyrus open in my hand 
Readeth, * Why should we evermore demand 
God to reveal what none could understand ? ' 



H3 



The Visions ** And since what God was, is, and yet shall be 
of King Eludes forever, who hath eyes to see 
Solomon In darkness, when the light is mystery ? 

*< Hath he not tempered us with smiles, and tears; 
Made life and death the gateways of our years. 
And then destroys the temple which He rears ? 

** Is it for us to justify His will. 

Nor rather subjugate our reason still: 

The cup once empty who the cup can fill ? 

'* And since the cup so bountifully filled 

In bitter drops of agony is spilled, 

O wherefore was the wine at all distilled \ 

** The generations perish one by one: 
What profiteth a man when all is done. 
Since there is no new thing beneath the sun ? 

** Doth God distinguish between man and beast; 
Or say, * Thou art the greatest, thou the least ' ? 
No, one and all are bidden to the feast. 

** And having fed to fullness, one by one 
We go to where is neither moon nor sun; 
The feasting ended and the music done. 

** Doth the fool reason thus, or kneel to pray ? 
Darkened are all his windows to the day; 
No light illumes the temple of his clay. 



144 



'* Yet, yet, why God at all? Or why suppose The Visions 

An Artisan hath made this world of shows: of King 

Or a Creator crimson-hued the rose ? Solomon 

** Since nature is so absolutely vast. 
How separate the future from the past 
To reconcile a first cause with the last ? 

** Shall man alone, with life so fi*ail and brief. 
Whose days are sorrow and his travail grief. 
Accept the burden of such vast belief? 

<* Ascent of man to God ? How can the soul 
Be ultimately blended with the Whole, 
If immortality is not its goal ? 

** O happier the fool is with his lot. 
Who never questions if God is or not. 
Than I a king, and of a king begot ! 

** Yet had I walked in darkness like the fool. 
And never deemed the world was but a school. 
Were I a ruler who were fit to rule ? 

*^ Were I contented then, though not a king? 
No. Though some magic talisman could bring 
To swift reality the thoughts which spring 

** Like music in my heart, still were it. No! 

O vanity of vanities! when woe 

Still follows wisdom; and this wondrous show. 



H5 



The Visions ** In its ostent of pageantries sublime, 
of King Through all the vast vicissitudes of time 
Solomon And circle of the year in every clime, 

** In certainty of sequence still presents 
A similar succession of events. 
Though clad in variate habiliments. 

** Who laid the vast foundations of the deep ? 

Or gave the winds their wings whereby they sweep 

Like chaiF away the harvests men would reap ? 

*^ Are not the stars but lamps before His court. 

Within whose gardens cool He doth resort 

To watch this life of ours which makes Him sport ? 

** God ! — Is it Fate or Chance ! How oft 't is found 
That wisdom sits not always with the crowned; 
And in the halls of judgment fools abound. 

*^ And one shall be a king and yet be cursed. 
Though all the springs of glory quench his thirst: 
And who gives sentence which is best or worst ? 

*' And one shall be a beggar and be trod 
Into the dust, and hailed as Ichabod; 
And yet shall he attain to be like God. 

'^ And this is vanity, that where we fail 

Through wisdom, oft through power we can prevail; 

Made proof against whatever foes assail. 



146 



^* O that I could discard this garb uncouth. The Visions 

These kingly vestments, and become a youth of King 

Still constant to my dreams of perfect truth! Solomon 

** Lo, I am king of Israel! Will my name 
Be robed in glory or be linked with shame 
When I return to dust, from which I came ? 

''I was not born a shepherd on the hills. 
Like David. Each his destiny fulfills; 
To each allotted as Jehovah wills. 

*' And yet he was a king, and gained a goal 
He sought not, when the fierce and turbid soul 
Of Saul pursued him as the thunders roll. 

*' O brother kings, who glory in your sway 
O'er multitudes, will there not come a day 
When we shall be compounded with their clay ? 

** Our sweet mouths filled with dust; our judgments 

found 
False; and the thrones whereon we sat renowned 
Destroyed by some vast whirlwind from the ground. 

** O vanity of vanities! Will we then 
Glory ? Being dishonored by all men; 
Our chronicles written with an iron pen. 

** O vanity of vanities! Will we reap 

Fruit then, when we have gone to our long sleep; 

And the dust covers us over in a heap ? 



^M 



The Visions *f Will they not say who come to mock our grave, 
of King * Lo, life was theirs and all the good it gave, 
Solomon And now they lie as low as any slave ' ? 

** Was it for this I sought in my domain 
All wisdom worthy for a king to gain ? 

vanity of vanities ! all proved vain. 

«* Since wisdom brought me sorrow, I said, Lo, 

1 will seek pleasm-e, in the lips that show 
Like roses; in the young heart like a roe. 

** And this was vanity. Then I sought to cheer 
My heart with wine — O folly guiding fear! — 
No comfort found my spirit even here. 

'* All that could satiate a soul's desire. 

Which I had brought from Sidon and from Tyre, 

I joyed not, for they seared my soul like fire. 

** Yea, all these Vast possessions I possess. 
The opulence of power, became no less 
An utter mockery and weariness. 

** Shall I not on departing here remit 
Their wealth and glory to some soul less fit ? 
And O the bitter vanity of it ! 

<* For hoard or squander treasures as we choose. 

Accept life's stipulation or refuse, 

God has arranged it so that we must lose. 



148 



*« Were joy the measure of our meed of praise. The Visions 

Could we contend with Him for means and ways of King 

To fill with rapture our brief length of days ? Solomon 

<* Shall I withhold my heart from any joy 
For fear that He might ask, * Doth life annoy. 
That all thy soul is bent on such employ ? ' 

'* O foolish wisdom, thus to seek content! 
A fool were wiser in a life thus spent 
Than I, a king, misdoubting the event. 

*' I dreamed that life was joy and labor sweet: 
Yet who will mark the passage of my feet 
Then, when the mourners go about the street; 

'* And darkened be the windows, and the low 
Voices of Israel's daughters wail their woe. 
And all my glory with my life will go ? 

** O bubble dreams of glory! in a breath 
Created, and destroyed as soon by death; 
Do not fools mock our wisdom's shibboleth ? 

*' There is no revelation in the dust: 
We must accept the world itself on trust. 
With all its vast disparities imjust. 

'* O thirst for wisdom God alone could sate! 
If I were willing to submit to fate. 
Would it then lead me to the very gate ? 



149 



The Visions << Search out, O God, the wisdom of my heart; 
of King We come in vanity and we depart 
Solomon In darkness. Where hath life a bitterer smart ? 

** Is it not Thine unalterable doom ? 
As we came naked from our mother's womb, 
< So naked must we go into the tomb! 

«' If star with star were only interknit. 
Then to each star could I my soul remit; 
Then were its splendors with each star relit. 

*^ No egress by that door. Could fate retract. 
There were then no divinity in the act 
Which gave the soul whatever gift it lacked 

*' Of Power, or Wealth, or Wisdom. Soul must suit 
With circumstance: must eat life's bitter fruit 
As its apportionment from, the Absolute. 

'^ Look at the world of men on every side: 
Kingdoms expanded; Power still amplified 
To pamper prodigality and pride. 

*' All the simplicities of life destroyed: 

Vast wealth and yet still vaster wealth employed 

That sensuality may not be cloyed. 

** O thou bright star! hast heard what I have said ? 
Is life a mystery which may be read ? 
Speakest thou to the living of the dead ? 



150 



** Is it a menace which thy message hath ? 
And has my soul, departing from the path 
Of duty, thus provoked His bitter wrath ? 

** I will consult the seers; perchance they may 
Dispel this strange unrest of mine away. 
The somber skies are turning into gray; 

** The banner of the darkness droops and falls; 
And from the temple gates the Levite calls. 
I see the watchmen standing on the walls; 

** Innumerably wan amidst the gloom. 
They seem like living sentinels of doom 
That guard the entrance to some granite tomb. 

*' And yon mysterious star no less appears 

A portent. Hath infirmity of years 

Weakened my sense ? I will consult the seers." 

Thus he to whom each mystery men glozed 
Lay in his piercing brain a flower reposed. 
Which gradually its inmost depth disclosed. 

Brooded in vain over the vast abyss 

That separates the world of God from this. 

Not having faith to cross the precipice. 

And when each subtle interchange of thought 
Had in his massive mind a meaning wrought. 
Yet could not clasp the clue for which he sought. 



The Visions 
of King 
Solomon 



151 



The Visions He summoned to him his Chaldean seers; 
of King^ Men bowed beneath the burden of the years, 
Solomon Whose mighty wisdom made them his compeers. 

They came in their austerity of age. 
Arrayed in garments as beseem the sage 
Preparing for death's endless pilgrimage. 

Through many columned sentinels of stone 
They passed into the chamber of his throne. 
Where he, the king, awaited them alone. 

Then one, the eldest, made obeisance meek. 
And said, **King Solomon, ere thou dost speak. 
Thy quest we know and know what thou wouldst seek. 

" Yon star, in those eternal scrolls we read. 

Yon star, what is it ? Is it star indeed. 

Or sundered from some star which was its seed ? 

** Seed of all stars, and star of all of them; 
And in Jehovah's crown its richest gem; 
Seed of the Holy Star of Bethlehem ! 

** For One, descended from thy royal line, 

O king, yet deemed of origin divine. 

Shall be announced by such a wondrous sign. 

** Kings will attend his birth, from many ways 
Summoned, and guided by the mystic rays 
Of yonder star's divine immaculate blaze. 



152 



** With gifts of myrrh and frankincense and gold The Visions 

Will they go seek him, as it shall be told, of King 

And find him cradled in a manger's fold. Solomon 

** One whose divinest reign will never cease. 
But more and more in glory will increase: 
Lord Jesus Christ, Messiah, Prince of Peace ! 

** Greater than all earth's kings, beeause his throne 
Shall be within the hearts of men alone: 
Yet will the world reject him for its own. 

** Behold these visions! First we break the seal 
That binds thine eyes with darkness, and reveal 
The Lord of Healing in the act to heal." 

Then Solomon was suddenly aware 
One of the cedared walls was lit, like air 
By lightning, and he saw this vision there. 



All of Jerusalem was at his feet — 
Temple and towers and palaces complete 
Beneath the splendor of the noonday heat. 

And in the valley where the Kedron flowed 
Were caravans and camels with their load 
Of treasures, following the winding road 

Past where Mount Olivet divinely gleamed: 

And all so wonderfully real it seemed 

That the king marveled if he saw or dreamed. 



153 



The Visions Near to the temple builded in his name 
of King A multitude was gathered, of the lame, 
Solomon Sick, halt, and blind; and still they came and came. 

As if by some enchantment thither drawn. 
And Solomon felt his heart within him thawn. 
For in their midst, like some pale star of dawn. 

One with a countenance divinely calm 

Seemed scattering from each wide-extended palm 

The benediction of some magic balm. 

For straightway maimed and halt upon their feet 
Sprang healed, ai^d ran with joy their friends to greet: 
And all were stirred like fields of wind-stirred wheat. 

Compassionate, transcendently benign 
In aspect, in the Healer's face did shine 
The radiance of some luminous love divine. 

And as the Presence passed upon his way. 
Some bowed adoringly, some knelt to pray. 
For having seen such miracles that day. 



The seer spake, '*Wilt thou still reaffirm, 
O king, to whom all wisdom is a term. 
That man is nought superior to the worm ? 

** Wilt thou confound the soul with its attire. 
And deem it still begotten of the mire ? 
This vision answers thee and thy desire; 



154 



** Revealing thee divinity in dust. The Visions 

Since Sinai not availed thee that thou must of King 

Thus rend thy soul of v^risdom v/ith distrust. Solomon 

** Was it a part of wisdom to constrain 

Thy soul to cry — more bound to joy than pain - — 

O vanity of vanities! all is vain? 

** And not the rather gratefully reflect 

How, since thy life had been with glory decked. 

Duty compelled thee to be circumspect ? 

** Then Israel had not seen her king too prone 
To worship other gods beside her ovirn. 
In cunning images of gold and stone. 

** Wherefore the sacred ark of God enshrined 
Within the Holy of Holies, if thy mind 
Was unto such idolatries inclined ? 

** Wherefore yon mighty temple then upraised 

In silence ? Sung for whom those psalms that praised 

The Lord thy God ? O king, art thou amazed ? 

*' Suppose that God had made His message plain — 
* Stand forth. King Solomon, till I arraign 
Thy soul, thou chosen king of my domain! 

** * Henceforth of all its splendors I denude 
Thy life. Pass onward into solitude. 
Ignoble king of an ignoble brood.' 



155 



The Visions <^ Hadst thou accepted such a life beyond 
of King Without a groan ? Nor hastened to respond, 
Solomon * O Lord, what of Thy covenant and its bond 

'* * To all of Abraham's seed ? ' Then peace, be still! 

It is the letter of the law doth kill: 

Behold, how God reveals to thee His will." 



The vision changed, and Solomon seemed to be 
Departing from the cities by the sea. 
And come unto the lake in Galilee. 

A multitude was gathered on its shore; 
And that divinest Presence seen before 
Among them healed the sick and maimed once more. 

Power went forth from him, like unto light 
Radiating from a star, which maketh bright 
Even the vastness of the infinite. 

Was it the faith wherein his soul was sure. 

Was it his features beautifully pure 

That wrought each wondrous miracle and cure ? 

All whom he touched he healed, and down they knelt 
Before the holy Presence seen and felt; 
Since God with them had mercifully dealt. 

Upon the lake the golden sunset gleamed; 
It filled the fields with glory, till it seemed 
All nature wore the look of one redeemed. 



156 



Then at commandment given by the Lord, The Visions 

The multitude reclined as though at board of King 

Upon the green grass of a sloping sward. Solomon 

And being separated into bands. 

There cometh one to where the Presence stands 

And placeth bread and fishes in his hands: 

And he brake bread and blessed, and, blessing said, 

Lo, all that mighty multitude was fed 

With those few fishes and few loaves of bread! 



Again the seer spake, *' Seems God less strict 
Than man in judgment ? Shall He interdict 
The fi"eedom of thy soul then to convict ? 

*' Consider but God's goodness. Call to account 
His mercies — infinite in their amount — 
His love — as inexhaustible as a fount — 

** And yet how many upon earth who live 
Unconscious of the good He loves to give. 
Though God so bounteously is contributive ! 

** What didst thou hope to see ? A king whose power 
And glory were like unto Babel's tower. 
Whose builders He confounded in an hour ? 

** What didst thou hope to see ? A potentate 
Like unto mighty Pharaoh in his state. 
In one day stricken from the scroll of fate? 



157 



The Visions *'The earth groans with the weight she bears thereof: 
of King And who shall lessen it, if God above 
Solomon Reveal not His compassion and His love ? 

** Wouldst thou have greater proof of God's intent. 
As when the thunder speaks the storm is spent ? 
Wouldst have God sue thee for acknowledgment 

** Because these miracles thou hast seen wrought 

Collide with certain reasons of thy thought ? 

How else shall man's faith in God's love be sought 

** Unless unboundedly his soul receives 
The evidence thus given, and believes 
Such love a world impenitent reprieves. 

** Blessed shall they be then who can say they saw 

Living, the living spirit of the law; 

And love with reverence and believe with awe. 

** * Insomuch will ye do it unto me 

By doing it to the least of these,' shall be 

His pure insignia of divinity, 

** 'Give, and it shall be given to thee: knock. 
And it shall open.' Yet the world will mock. 
Though he give all and lo, death's door unlock! '* 



Along the road that leads from Bethany 
A group of men and women seemed to be 
Through some great sorrow walking mournfully. 



158 



The women lifted up their hands and wailed. The Visions 

And in the heavy dust their tresses trailed, of King 

As if the light of all their life had failed. Solomon 

The men more quietly, yet nonp the less 
Stricken by grief which they could not repress. 
Walked onward with their hearts in heaviness. 

When lo, the holy Presence! in whose face. 
Never once marred by thoughts impure or base. 
There shone surpassing love, surpassing grace. 

Clad in a flowing priestly talith white. 

He seemed to lead them like a pillar of light: 

And O the blessed comfort of the sight ! 

But when they reached the entrance to a cave. 
Whose slab of stone revealed it was a grave. 
Then Jesus wept. Was it too late to save ? 

Some men went forth and rolled the stone away: 
Like unto new life broke the light of day 
Into the cave. And Jesus bowed to pray. 

He bowed and prayed. Who knows what prayer he 

said ? 
And outward from the cavern of the dead 
Came one with graveclothes wound about his head. 

And wound about his body for a girth. 

All stained and clammy from his couch of earth: 

And lo, the dead a second time had birth! 



159 



The Visions ** Speak now. King Solomon," the seer resumed: 
of King ** Is it the spirit that shall be entombed, 
Solomon Or is it but the body that is doomed ? 

«* Why should not man indubitably claim 
Preeminence over beasts ; since in His name 
Created, and in image made the same ? 

'* Didst thou perceive one fate attends them both. 

Yet not consider the diviner troth 

Whereby man's spirit blends with Sabbaoth ? 

*' Eat, drink, be merry; for to-morrow ye die! 
O woeful wisdom to be guided by! 
Too cowardly to affirm or to deny. 

*'Look at man's labor: seems it unexplained 

By any ultimate event attained ? 

Yet step by step some progress hath been gained. 

*' New pathways through primeval forests dark; 
New heights whereon the world can set its mark; 
New seas for which brave seamen may embark! 

" And men shall struggle onward, though they fail. 
And each achievement seem without avail: 
For evermore ascending in the scale 

** Of being. Yet partaking of the fruit 
That qualifies their passionate pursuit 
Of Knowledge, seeking for the Absolute. 



1 60 



** Seeking divine perfection with the stress The Visions 

Of exaltation, till they blend no less of King 

Their love with God's supreme inclusiveness." Solomon 



Then, as if woven by some mystic loom. 
King Solomon beheld a somber room 
Spacious, although low-vaulted like a tomb. 

A few dim lamps its little light increased. 
And in the midst a table set for feast: 
The lamb slain in the temple by the priest. 

The savory herbs, the paschal loaves, the wine — 

Around it did a group of men recline. 

And Christ among them was the host divine. 

He blessed the food and served and gave to each: 
But still they eat not, listening to his speech. 
For these the Master most would love to teach. 

— The king had given kingdoms to have heard 
Of all that Jesus spake then but a word — 
Then round his waist a towel Christ did gird. 

And as if no submissiveness was unmeet. 

And with a smile angelically sweet. 

He knelt and washed all his disciples' feet. 

Then took his place again, resigned and meek; 
And as inaudibly he began to speak 
With shame seemed flushed each bronzed disciple's 
cheek. 



i6i 



The Visions Then took he up the loaf and blessed and brake, 
of King As Solomon had seen him by the lake, 
Solomon As if to say, ** This do ye for my sake," 

And gave to each. Then took he up the gourd 
And wine in each disciple's cup he poured. 
And lo, it seemed the red blood of the Lord ! 



Then as the vision faded into night 

The seer asked, ** What think' st thou of this sight. 

Wherein man's stature towered to its height ? 

*' Holdest thou such a servitude amiss ? 
From lowest life to highest realms of bliss 
Could God reveal a greater love than this ? 

** Shall such humility not be allowed 
To render dispensation to the proud ? 
How else shall God's elation be avowed ? 

** The meek in spirit shall inherit earth: 

Whatever be thy station or thy birth. 

With such a balance God will weigh thy worth. 

'* Consider thy dominions, — are they spanned 

And held as tributary to thy hand ? 

Yet arc they unto Him but grains of sand. 

" Power ? — Didst thou not scorn it, made exempt 
From power through wisdom ? Was thy proud con- 
tempt 
Only the figment of a soul which dreamt ? 



162 



** Wisdom ? — most inconceivably divine The Visions 

In essence, and to such a soul as thine of King 

The very tabernacle of His shrine; Solomon 

«< Worth more than thousand Ophirs delved afar; 
Was this a harmony which nought could mar. 
Yet trembled at the aspect of a star ? 

** Consider if thy soul hath yet appealed 
To God like yonder lilies of the field. 
In whom is true beatitude revealed. 

*' Consider if thy wisdom hath increased 

God's mercy to the greatest and the least: 

God's love for man; God's care of bird and beast. 

** Consider if thy wisdom can augment 
His glory. Is it not a sunbeam spent 
In darkness of the myriads He hath sent ? 

'* Wouldst thou all wisdom turn into a dirge ? 
What of the spirit that helped man emerge 
From animality to manhood's verge ? 

** Topple down all the temples of thy pride! 
Thou wilt not find the universe too wide 
For thy great spirit therein to abide. 

** Is it not with transcendent faith imbued 
That man regenerates, and hath renewed 
The world which mocked at his ineptitude ? 



163 



The Visions *< The ages and their purposes are vast; 
of King In God there is no future and no past. 
Solomon Behold, the hour of Man hath come at last! " 



The Garden of Gethsemane lay pale 

In moonlight: and the sentries of the vale. 

The olive-trees, seemed clad in silvered mail. 

The stars shone clear; the night was not yet spent: 

Slowly along the flowery ascent 

The Saviour and his twelve disciples went. 

Then passed he on alone, and near the bole 
Of an old tree in prayer revealed his soul; 
The last great agony before the goal. 

And thrice he prayed, and thrice he came and found 
Those who were with him sleeping on the ground. 
Then seemed it they were wakened by some sound 

That broke the holy stillness of the night. 
And lo, ascending to the moon-lit height, 
A band of rugged men appeared in sight. 

Armed, and approaching to the sacred tryst: 
And of these one came forth and ran and kissed 
The pure lips of the pale Evangelist. 

Can love ineffable be turned to scorn ? 
No look not born of light, of love not born. 
Those features beatific marred that morn. 



164 



But smilingly, as some fair god of stone. The Visions 

He faced the captors come to claim their own; of King 

Through all the tumult undisturbed alone. Solomon 

For one impatiently had grasped his sword 
And smote the ear of one amidst the horde: 
To which extended forth his hand the Lord 

Of Healing, and the man straightway was healed. 
Then captive and his captors crossed a field 
Of lilies and in darkness were concealed. 



The seer spake anew: ^* Could wisdom's shield 
Defend thee and the scepter thou dost wield. 
If God should meet thee on the battle-field ? 

*' Dost thou conceive creation as a mask 
For the Creator ? Then as well to ask 
Why undertaken His stupendous task ? 

«' Why not life rather as a minor chord 
Whereon man's spirit learnt to play, then soared 
To sing its diapason to the Lord ? 

*' What else was manifested to thy sight 

In yonder symbol of the infinite 

But God's love, given as the sun gives light ? 

" Could such a lofty intellect as thine 
Refuse God credence for whatever sign 
Was vouchsafed thee of all His love divine ? 



i6s 



The Visions *< Had but thy wisdom sought for such a proof 
of King Of God's love, widely strewn in man's behoof, 
Solomon Thou never hadst conceived Him as aloof 

*' From His creation. But convinced thy sense 
How, from minutest things to most immense, 
God's love forever is in evidence! 

*' What revelation wouldst thou have declare 
God immanent in spirit everywhere; 
Soul to thy soul, as light is to the air ? 

** O bitter disillusionment complete! 
Were God's divinest revelation meet 
The very stones would cry beneath thy feet: 

** The deep seas become vocal, and the hills. 
With all the music of their thousand rills. 
Speak of the love which all creation fills. 

** And star with star, and flower with flower confer 
Of that great love which God to man doth bear. 
With all its vast immensity of care ! 

*'For if, regarding nature, you assume 
No immanence of deity, you doom 
Mankind to dwell as in a living tomb. 

*^ A tomb from which no issuance can be; 
No resurrection setting spirit free 
Through Love and God and Immortality. 



[66 



<*No individuation of the soul The Visions 

Seeking divine completion in the Whole; of King 

To life no purpose, since through death no goal. Solomon 

*' Creation never conscious of its ow^n 
Creator — dwelling in Himself alone — 
Man's spirit then were petrified to stone : 

** Nor flowed to rapture, nor received in bliss 
God's revelation of Himself, who is 
Himself the essence of all essences: 

** And seeks revealment of Himself in man. 
As of a spirit that loves, wills, and can; 
Therefore shall Christ be God's Samaritan! 

** Merciful to man's sinfulness, and pure. 
Though all our evil burdens he endure; 
Born that all men salvation may secure. 

** Brighter than sunlight, holier than all good; 
In him all perfect wisdom understood: 
In him all love, all truth, all brotherhood! 

*' Light unto darkness; hope unto despair; 
Strength unto weakness; teaching men to bear 
Life's heavy burdens of remorse and care. 

** Balm unto sorrow; to man's trivial ways 
Commiserative; and with golden rays 
Of love and kindness filling all his days. 



167 



The Visions **And is not such transcendent faith indeed 
of King Worth all men's living ? Yet who will succeed, 
Solomon But one found willing on the cross to bleed ? 

^*King Solomon, behold! Only one scene 
Remains ; revealing thee the Nazarene 
Crowned as the king of all his vast demesne.'* 



A supernatural splendor seemed to fill 
The chamber, and divinest music thrill 
The air : then suddenly all again was stilL 

Darkness had overcast the firmament: 
Black cloud colossi, as they came and went. 
In shafts of lightning their blind fury spent. 

And by their glare saw Solomon, side by side. 
Three crosses on a hillock bare and wide; 
And on each cross a creature crucified. 

The midst of these — O vision to behold! — 
Was Christ, the Shepherd, dying for his fold: 
And on his cross, above his head, was scrolled 

*^ King of the Jews," in Latin, Hebrew, Greek. 
Then darkness shrouded Golgotha's dread peak. 
And hid that figure crowned with thorns, and meek. 



i68 



*' Thou shudderest," spake the seer. '* Wouldst con- The Visions 

tend of King 

He had no part in God, whose tragic end Solomon 

Was here vouchsafed for thee to apprehend ? 

** How else fulfill the Law ? How else induce 
Mankind to have faith in Love's holiest use. 
Unless poured forth from such a living cruse ? 

** How justify the ways of God to man ? 

In the beginning was the Word, began 

God with the Word, God was the Word: so ran 

* * The ancient Logos that shall be the new. 
Each vision here presented to thy view 
Taught thee transcendent reasons thereunto. 

** One star is first to pierce the night of gloom; 
And one fair palm-tree first must come to bloom 
Ere God redeems the desert from its doom. 

** By choosing thus to be earth's denizen. 

By thus surrendering his life to men. 

Shall Christ be known as the Messiah then! 

** The world is groaning with its burden vast: 

The pillars of the temples of the past 

Are crumbling, and will fall to earth at last. 

** Not in men's hearts which are like blocks of wood. 
Unconscious of both Love and Brotherhood, 
Is God perceived as the Eternal Good. 



169 



The Visions ** A quickening spirit man's frail nature needs: 
of King A spirit that will fill the world with deeds 
Solomon Of light, above all dogmas and all creeds. 

'* Helping the prostrate souls of men to spring 
Upwards, till God is seen in everything ! 
This spirit is the spirit Christ will bring. 

*^ Equality before the Law: Man's Might 
Becoming tempered by his love of Right; 
And blending all in God's love infinite! 

** Who then shall help the widow in distress. 
Or give unto the poor and fatherless. 
Him to the Father will the Son confess. 

*^And yonder star will shine above them when 
The angels bring their glorious tidings then, 
* Peace unto earth, and good-will unto men.' 

** Having foretold thee Christ of Nazareth, 
Yon star was sent thee to announce thy death. 
Dost thou beheve ? ' ' the seer questioneth. 

*^And I believe," King Solomon made reply; 
''And having seen, I am prepared thereby 
To lay my life down, like a king, and die ! " 



170 



TO THE MUSE 

I WHO have loved thee pure from all assoil. 
Have never sought thee in the haunts of men. 
But held thee stainless, and with lofty pen 
Have wrought for thee with unremitting toil. 
Still burning at thy shrine the midnight oil, 

how shall I appease thee. Goddess, when 
Thou wilt not of my house be denizen. 

And all my gifts upon my head recoil ? 
O not for glory, nor for fame's award, 

1 follow on thy footsteps fleet and far. 
From youth to manhood passionately adored. 

Thy beauty still is my soul's radiant star! 
Will'st thou I change my pen into a sword ? 
And if I smite me, wilt thou heal the scar ? 



171 



'ftT/^T7 ^ loni 



OCT 31 1901 



